Even Without the Games
by mtwordsr
Summary: You think PeetaxKatniss never would have happened if they hadn't been in the Games together? Well, I have to disagree with you. Up ahead: adventure, tinged with romance - so, like the books, but not really. Finally COMPLETE.
1. Even Without the Games

Chapter revamped!

**I don't own the Hunger Games. (However, there are some lines from the Hunger Games in this chapter.)**

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Another year less to worry about – Prim and I have been spared. Two less faces to see in school. When we go to school, the day after the reaping, I see a group of the boy tribute's friends. I knew the boy by face, and by name. His name was Tyler, and he was a boy from the Seam, so he was my neighbor. His friends are huddled together, silent. There is a void in them now... nothing will ever be the same for them, even though they _knew _it was possible... funny how we prepare ourselves for these moments, but once we find ourselves in them, they become... impossible to deal with.

_No matter, _I try and remind myself, _you're alive, and so is your family. You're all right. This is their worry. Sympathy for someone you barely knew won't get food on the table, Katniss._

Prim and I rush through school to get to our classes. I see _him_ once – our eyes meet for the usual fraction of the second... and then life goes on. Only this time, when my eyes look away, they see a dandelion instead. I am reminded of another moment, five years ago, when we looked at one another... I looked away, and found hope.

Peeta Mellark was the beginning of my survival... and he needs to know that. Today must be the day. It's been five years; I've postponed this for too long.

But he's always with his friends. Talking to him is frightening enough, but with people around...

I'm half considering just not to do it. Why am I going to thank him for something that happened five years ago? He probably don't even remember it.

_No,_ I say to myself firmly, _I need to do this – maybe it'll be easier. Maybe I'll stop feeling like I owe him._

But again, I can't find him alone. After school, a bit desperately, I tell Prim while she waits by my locker, "Just... go. I have to stay for a bit. I'll be right home."

Prim leans her head to the side, confused. "Okay." She turns around. "I'll see you at home, then."

As I close my locker a minute or two later, I notice that he is with his friends at the opposite end of the hallway. Unsurprisingly, they're all talking and laughing. I wonder what it's like to be them. Again our eyes meet, and again we look away, but even with my head turned to the locker, my eyes face him and his friends.

How will I ever get to talk to you alone, Peeta Mellark?

I sigh and give up. I head off in the same direction Prim went, ready to catch up to her. I stop on the front steps a bit, trying to figure out how I'm going to get him alone... after all, it's got to happen eventually, right?

Then, behind me, the school door bangs open. I hear his voice calling into the hall: "I'll see you guys on Monday."

I drop my books in surprise. I bend down to pick them up. Out of the corner of my eye I see him move forward, leaning down to help me. "No, it's fine," I tell you a bit stiffly.

He straightens back up. "Um, okay." He is alone. "Katniss, right?"

I nod. "Peeta?"

We've "known" each other since kindergarten; we should already know our names. It's a given. Or it should be, anyway.

I blurt out: "Thank you."

He looks baffled. "For what?"

I can feel my cheeks heating up. "I don't know if you remember, I guess, but I felt like I should thank you for it."

"For what?" he says again.

"The bread," I reply awkwardly. "From when we were kids."

"Oh," he says, and I know he hasn't forgotten, judging from the instant realization in his eyes. "It's no problem. You looked like you were starving."

"I was. My family was," I say. Just the simple remembrance of it gets my stomach contracting. I remember the absolute pain of hunger, how I wanted more than anything to eat... how I would rather die, soaking wet, from starvation, than go home to see my little sister's chapped lips and hollow cheeks, to see her see me coming home empty-handed. With this in mind, I don't hesitate to tell him, "You saved us that night."

He turns a bit pink. "It was just bread. Burnt, too."

I shake my head, and I take one step down from the stairs. He does, too. "We had nothing for the three days before then except boiled water with some old dried mint leaves I'd found in the back of a cupboard... I was ready to bring home a bone to eat, or rotted vegetables. I was desperate. I was ready to die that night. I wanted to."

"Well, you're welcome, Katniss," he says, gently. "I'm glad I could help."

I sigh, and I begin to walk away, but I turn to him. "There's nothing I can promise, obviously, but... if there's anything I can do to repay you..."

He gives me a half smile. "Sing for me."

"Sing?" I say, confused and surprised. Sing. The word seems alien. When was the last time that I had anything to do with music? I remember a time before my father's death, and when I loved music... I loved singing. It reminds me of my father.

He nods and begins to walk beside me, even though his house is in the opposite direction. "Yeah. Sing for me."

"Why?"

A bit embarrassed, he gives me a bit of a shrug. "The first day I saw you, you sang for the class. You sang the Valley Song..."

"I don't even remember that," I say, startled.

He gives me a smile. "It was the first day of school. So we were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair... it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up."

"Your father? Why?" I ask, still baffled. I remember his father. He's a quiet man. Mother knew him, since she grew up in town.

"He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,'" he says.

"What? You're making that up!" I exclaim. Mother's never really talked about the baker, except to compliment his bread.

"No, true story," he says, "and I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you? And he said, 'Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen.'"

"That's true. They do. I mean, they did," I say. I'm stunned and surprisingly moved, thinking of the baker telling this to Peeta. It strikes me that my own reluctance to sing, my own dismissal of music might not really be that I think it's a waste of time. It might be because it reminds me of my father.

"So, that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us."

I frown. "But... why do you want to hear me sing?"

"Because, I swear, when you sang, every bird outside the windows fell silent," he says.

"Oh, please," I say, almost laughing.

"It's true."

This throws a new dynamic into what I thought was the nonexistent relationship between him and me. I'm surprised that he's remembered all this; I definitely haven't. But it sounds familiar, so I have to believe him – and what reason would there be to lie about this?

"So, you want me to sing for you?" I ask hesitantly.

"Yes, please."

"It doesn't feel like it would be enough -"

"Katniss," he interrupts with a small laugh, "there will never be a moment when you will bring me back from the dead, or something. Unless we're both in the Hunger Games – and let's hope we're not."

I laugh, surprising myself. "Okay, fine. I'll sing for you. But not now."

"Why not?"

"Because... if I'm going to sing for you, if I'm going to sing for anyone... I guess it should be sung well, shouldn't it?" I reply slowly. "So I'll sing for you... on Sunday."

"Sunday. I'll hold you to it." He smiles, and I'm actually smiling back. "See you then, Katniss."

"See you."

I'm still standing there looking after him as he turns around to go back into town. He turns around, our eyes meet – and for once, they don't turn away.

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**_Review, please! :)_**


	2. We Are Pawns

Chapter revamped!

**I don't own the Hunger Games. (The last song, however, is from Barbie as Rapunzel. Shoot me! It's a sweet lullaby haha.)**

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Tyler from the Seam – I don't even know his last name – died early Saturday morning. It was a gruesome death, one from the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Even I had to look away. He couldn't get out fast enough. "Bee", as I heard the other tribute is called among her friends, survived. She's one of the lower-class merchant girls, with blonde hair and dark eyes. I wonder if Peeta was friends with her. She dashed out of the Cornucopia quickly and unnoticed. The commentators noted how wise she must be. With her fragile figure she wouldn't have lasted at the Cornucopia, even if she was skilled. The cameras stayed on her as Bee searched for water. It was painful to watch. Until she found mud, and found water. I wonder how a merchant girl became so wise about the wild?

"Well, we still have a tribute one day in," Prim had said. She sounded so confident. Does she know how unlikely it is we're going to have a victor?

"Not going to stay that way for long," Gale said. Prim looked a bit downhearted and I wanted to say something to encourage her, but privately, I agreed with him. Bee's intelligence could only stretch so far. When they switched the cameras over to a group of Careers, especially, I was reminded of how little Bee can do. At least, in comparison to the Careers.

Later, after Gale and I hunt, we go to our place and see what we have gathered. As we do, Gale looks up at me and says, "I heard you talked to Mellark a few days ago."

Like me, Gale doesn't talk much, so I don't know why or where he would have heard that from. "Where did you hear that?"

"His brother." Gale shrugs. "They were talking about you."

"Peeta was talking about me?"

Gale's eyes narrow at the first-name usage. "So you did talk to him?"

"Yes," I reply stiffly. "I don't like owing him for the bread, so I have to return the favor, somehow."

Gale seems to pull the game bag away from me possessively. "You're not going to give him _food_?"

"No!" I say, continuing to pick berries. I sigh. "He suggested... I sing for him."

He is as puzzled as I was by the request. "Sing? Why?"

I sit back down and shrug. "I don't know. He likes my voice, I guess."

Even Gale doesn't know. I've never sung for him before. Gale muddles over it for a few seconds before going back to work on the berries. We go on to talk about other things, eventually. We begin walking back to the Meadow together. Conversation shifts and shuffles, but continues. It is everyday life. Nothing out of the ordinary. We're trying to live. So, we do.

"I think we can go up further north tomorrow – the bears won't bother us."

"Vick did really well at school, yesterday. Poetry."

"Prim's thinking that maybe we can get Lady pregnant."

"How long do you think the District Twelve tribute's got?"

But, later, after Gale finishes his ramble about the Hunger Games – they're more constant, now, with the Games actually happening – Gale asks me, "What song?"

"Huh?" I stare at him, confused. I've forgotten about Peeta and didn't understand how Gale's question works in the conversation.

"For Mellark. What are you going to sing for him?" he says patiently.

I reply with silence.

It's a nice day today. The sun is out. I can count the number of clouds in the sky with my fingers. There are eight, in my sight. The flowers are a brighter yellow than they usually are, it seems. Nearby, District Twelve. Drab, old, and starving District Twelve. It is all that and home. The two of us continue walking. The birds are chirping, and the sounds of a bustling town make their way to us, even out here. In the nearby house, a baby's loud crying has ceased. I wonder what the mother or the father did to make him or her stop. Suddenly I stop, nearly dropping the game bag in surprise.

Gale meets my eyes with confusion. "What's wrong?"

Again, I don't respond. I listen, and there is no more baby's crying.

"Nothing's wrong."

...

Awkwardly, on Sunday, I wonder if he's coming to me if I'm going to him. At any rate, I walk slowly into town, aiming for the bakery. I spot him and his brother walking down the street. I only notice now how much he doesn't look like his brothers, who I've gotten a glimpse of now and then. Their facial features are all similar, and they're all blonde-ish, but Peeta still don't look much like them. He looks more like your father than your mother. Maybe that means something. I peek around the corner. It doesn't take long for him to recognize me.

"Katniss!" he says, as if someone has just given him a present.

I wonder why. Why am I so interesting to him? What is there about me, aside from a slightly above average voice, that makes him so fascinated by me? I wish he wouldn't be so interested. I don't need or want any new friends. I can't want any new friends.

"Hi," I greet, unable to actually _say _his name. I feel like calling him "Mellark" instead of "Peeta", actually.

"Are we getting rid of your debts today?" he asks, and I smile awkwardly. Immediately he sees, _that _particular joke won't be getting much laughs from me. Or laughs, period. He gives me the smile instead. "I'll talk to you later, Tom."

Tom. Okay. I didn't even know his name 'til now.

"Tom" gives me a smile and a curious look, but gives his brother a pat on the shoulder and walks away. I'm kind of looking at Peeta's feet instead of his face when I say, "Um. So."

His question changes. "Are you singing for me today?"

"Yes," I reply slowly. "And... I'd like if nobody else heard... me. Singing."

"Oh. Okay." Peeta nods, beginning to walk beside me to the Meadow – it's close enough, and it's secluded enough. On the way there, he tries to initiate conversation. In my head, I wish him luck. "You're not usually the type to just go up to someone and ..." His sentence trails off, but I still feel compelled to reply.

I nod. "I'm not."

"So, why go up to me and talk?"

I don't look at him, just straight ahead. "Because I don't like owing people, and I needed to at least thank you to make me stop feeling badly about this."

"Why don't you want to make any more friends?"

"Because it won't help get food on the table. I don't need friends," I say, and I realize how cold that sounds.

Well, the sooner he realizes it, the better.

"But … what if I _could _help you get food on the table?" he asks hopefully.

I shoot him a look. "I don't like owing you, remember?"

"But you wouldn't have to owe me. You're doing me a favor by letting me be friends with you," he says earnestly.

I stop walking and cross my arms. "Why are you so determined to – what is it about me that makes you so interested? I'm not... I'm not very friendly."

He gives me a rueful smile. "Because I wish you'd let me give you a chance."

I sigh and shake my head. We've arrived deep enough in the Meadow. I clear my throat and look away from him, imagining my father...

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow  
__A bed of grass, a soft green pillow  
__Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes  
__And when they open, the sun will rise_

_Here it's safe, and here it's warm -  
__- here the daisies guard you from every harm,  
__and here it's sweet, and here your dreams come true,  
__here is the place where I love you._

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away...  
__a cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray  
__Forget your woes, and let your troubles lay  
__And when again it's morning, they'll wash away..._

_Here it's safe, and here it's warm -  
__- here the daisies guard you from every harm,  
__and here it's sweet, and here your dreams come true,  
__here is the place where I love you.  
__Here is the place where I love you._

I turn around slowly. He looks mesmerized. My arms are still crossed. I sigh before murmuring, "There. I sang for you."

"That was lovely, Katniss," he says, so genuinely that I feel almost bad that I'm being standoffish to him.

I notice just then that Prim is coming across the Meadow. "Katniss!" she calls. "Where have you been?"

"Your sister," he notes. "Her name – Primrose, right?"

I nod once and shortly. "I've been right here, Prim." She comes to a stop in front of me and turns to Peeta. Her eyes dart between him and me, and she raises a brow. Before she can say anything, I ask, "What do you need?"

"Nothing," Prim replies. "I was just looking for you. I was a bit bored."

"Oh," I say. I figure... "Prim, this is Peeta Mellark. Peeta, Prim."

"It's nice to meet you, Peeta. The cakes in your bakery look lovely," Prim says sweetly. "Are they as delicious as they look?"

He smiles. "I hope so."

"Don't you get to eat them?" I say, because I'm curious.

"Not always," he replies

Then, our conversation comes to a halt. A lot of the reason why I don't have many friends isn't only that I don't want or need them – I don't get along with a lot of people well enough to make them dedicated to staying my friend. I'm not exactly an expert at conversation. Peeta clears his throat. "Would you two like to join me in the square tonight? Watch the Games?"

I'm about to decline, but Prim nods. "Sure."

Prim. Always determined to be nice. I force a very small smile – one that I'm sure doesn't look very real – and say, "We'll be there."

Peeta looks pleasantly surprised. "I'll see you two there, then. I have some work at the bakery to do."

"See you later, Peeta," says Prim.

We wave at each other one last time. Then he walks in one direction, toward the bakery, and we walk in another, toward starvation.

...

Mother, of course, is astonished when she finds out that Prim and I are going to watch tonight's segment of the Games in the square. I'm sure any other mother in the Seam would have said no, work starts early tomorrow. But she's not any other mother in the Seam, and I am not any other person in the Seam. She is happy that I'm apparently trying to restart the social life that never existed.

I'm not. I'm trying to be polite. Prim is truly kind and interested, and I envy her for that sometimes. How lovely she can be. That's how it's meant to be, though – she's supposed to be loveable, and I'm supposed to take care of her.

When the two of us arrive at the square, Peeta seems surprised. "I didn't think you'd show up," he says in response to my raised eyebrows. "I thought..."

"I have more etiquette than that," I say, almost sounding cold, but stopping myself.

"I know," he says. How do you know?

That night, Bee gives us something to cheer about. At first, I'm disdainful. She had paired up with a wispy little child from District Eleven named Rue earlier. I think about Prim beside me and how she and Rue are the same age. How nobody volunteered for Rue. Then I am impressed by Bee, when I realize that she has done what I would have done, if I had the unbelievable misfortune to be in Bee's place.

The two of them work better together. Rue has a knowledge of the surrounding plants that Bee does not have. She knows how to heal and she's stealthy. She can teach Bee things that she didn't originally know. They escape some other tributes and even leave a fair few injured – but no permanent damage.

"It's a shame," Peeta says beside me suddenly, while Rue is healing Bee's wounds.

"What is?" Prim asks.

"That they're getting along so well," he responds. "I hope neither of them have to kill one another."

For some reason, I feel like crying. But I remind myself that I don't know either of them. It's just getting to me because Bee is from District Twelve and Rue reminds me of my sister. They're unimportant to me, though – their families have their own worries. I will feel sorry for them. There's no way Bee can win, and neither can Rue, against a 200-pound Career.

"No!" Prim cries suddenly, amidst the silence of the square.

She's seen something that neither of us have, yet. In the corner of the screen, Marvel, the boy from District Twelve, has aimed a spear toward both Bee and Rue.

"No!" Bee yells, just like Prim has. She knocks Rue aside. Rue tumbles into the mud and the spear meets a different target. I lean back in shock, as if it's actually happening in front of me. The camera zooms forward. I'm reminded of a vulture eagerly leaning toward a dead animal and I'm sickened. Bee curls around the spear in her stomach. I want to barf. Or run. But Prim is holding my hand tightly, and I'm frozen anyway.

Rue looks between Bee and Marvel in confusion. I know why – she wants to run, but she wants to stay with Bee, as well. Apparently out of nowhere, another boy – I recognize him as the other tribute from District Eleven – attacks Marvel. They clash. The District Eleven boy gives Rue a look, telling her to run, but she shakes her head. Exasperatedly, Rue's district partner finishes off Marvel, who later lies in the ground choking out blood. I closed my eyes for a lot of the fight. District Eleven Boy gives Rue one last look before running away.

Bee, by now, looks just barely alive. Rue bends down. "Hey," we hear her whisper.

"Sing for me," Bee croaks.

_Constant as the stars above,  
__Always know that you are loved  
__And my love, shining in you  
__Will help you make your dreams come true  
__will help your dreams come true_

_The lamb lies down, and rests its head  
__On its mother's downy bed  
__Dolphins plays in the moonlight's glow  
__And butterflies dream of a violet rose  
__Dream of a violet rose_

_I'll cradle you in my arms tonight  
__As sun embraces the moonlight  
__The clouds will carry us home tonight  
__Our dreams will run deep like the sea  
__Our dreams will run deep like the sea_

_Constant as the stars above,  
__Always know that you are loved  
__And my love, shining in you  
__Will help you make your dreams come true  
__will help your dreams... come... true_

I try to suppress a shudder. What would I have done? No... I would have been dead by now, I'm sure. Rue begins to sing. I don't know the song. It might be District Eleven's lullaby. It might be the one they use to sing their own hungry babies to sleep. Rue holds Bee's hands until her eyes close and until the grip on Rue's fingers slacken.

I swallow, and it seems so loud.

District Twelve is out.

Rue stares at Bee for a moment before walking away. The camera goes to a group of Careers, for a brief moment, but when the camera returns to Bee and the hovercraft... Prim lets out a small, delighted, "oh!" and I even smile just a little. Even if it is a sad smile. Bee's beautiful blonde hair has flowers weaved in to it, and the flowers are just dressed all around her. I relax slightly.

Peeta is smiling. "That is brilliant," he says quietly, more to himself.

I turn to him in confusion. "What?" As far as I'm concerned, losing our last tribute like _that _is anything but brilliant.

"Don't you see?" he whispers. "That is the best person who could ever win the Games – someone who won't be a piece in their Games."

"I don't get it," I say.

He shakes your head. "I hope that girl – Rue – never changes. I hope she shows the Gamemakers and the Capitol that she's more than just a pawn."

"But she is." I fold my arms over my chest. "We all are, even when we're not in the Games."

Again, he just shakes his head. "Not if we don't let ourselves be. And she didn't."

**_Review, please!_**


	3. Promise to Prim

Yes, I know, it's been a while. I should have had something up a while ago (I finished NaNoWriMo way earlier than I thought), but… procrastination and lack of ideas got in the way. So… sorry? xD Thanks to Danika for being obnoxiously pushy 3

Oh, also:

I feel compelled to reply to this! xD This is in response to "ok you totaly ripped off halfhope's story sing for me with the whole "sing for me" thing. singing in return for help was halfhope's story base".

Well, I dare you to find a story on that is completely original. While we're at it, I totally ripped off KenoshaChick's My First Date with Katniss Everdeen, as well. For the record, I love both of those stories and any "ripping off" I did was unintentional. Of _course _I noticed how alike the two fics are. Why is that reason for me to stop? Or do it over? I'm happy with how it is, and obviously there are others who are, too. Furthermore, singing in return for help isn't my story base. I like to think that this story's base is that... Peeta and Katniss would have gotten together even without the Hunger Games. It's in the summary, no? I believe Suzanne Collins wrote "connections" between the two of them so that they wouldn't _need _the Hunger Games to become friends.

So. Ripping off = unintentional. Same story base = not true.

Thanks for reading ;)

Also, no more second person. We'll see how this goes, I guess?

**I don't own the Hunger Games!**

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Prim cross examines me on the way home.

"Why are you so cold to him?" she asks.

"I'm not -" I cut myself off, because it's pointless to lie to Prim.

"He gave us the bread that night, didn't he? That really cold night in January?" Prim asks. "Why are you so … mean to him? Plus, his dad's really nice. He always trades with me."

"Well, his _dad _being nice has nothing to do with _Peeta _being nice," I say, even though Peeta is nice.

Prim knows that, too. "But... Peeta _is _nice."

I don't respond.

My sister giggles. "Do you _like _him?"

What! I can't even use the word "what" as a question. Firstly, the idea is ridiculous. Secondly: "I can't believe you would even say that!" I burst out, uncharacteristically of me.

"Oh!" Prim cries. "You do!"

"Prim!" I hiss. "What if someone hears?"

"Do you?"

"No, I don't," I say, trying not to be sharp, because she's Prim, "and I wish you wouldn't think I do."

"Then... why are you blushing?"

Unfortunately, now, I've just felt the heat on my cheeks. "Because the idea of it embarrasses me." I sigh. "Prim, you know I don't want a family of my own... especially not with him."

"Do you not like him?" she asks, and I'm about to punch something when she adds: "I mean... you know. Do you … approve of him?"

I hesitate. "I don't know."

"I want you to get to know him," Prim tells me. "Please?"

"Why?" I ask incredulously. Here I was thinking that I'd finally be free of Peeta Mellark after today. No more debts, no more bonds. I am free from stupid Peeta Mellark...

Prim shrugs. "Because I wish you'd give life a chance, Katniss."

"What?" I say, raising a brow.

She takes my hand and squeezes it tightly. "Katniss, we're eating, aren't we? We're alive. I mean, it's hard, and we all still have to work hard to get food to live, but there's more to life than … just surviving. You can _enjoy _life. I mean, Gale does. Why shouldn't you?"

I frown. "Gale...? How do you mean?"

Prim realizes she's said too much and continues hastily, "Please, Katniss? Do this for me. I worry about you."

I force down a laugh – _Prim _worries about _me_? – and then sigh. "I will."

"Promise me you'll try and get to know him," she pleads.

"I promise I'll try and get to know him," I say hesitantly.

"Okay." Prim smiles, because she knows that I will keep my promises to her.

* * *

The next day, Prim gets to go home early because of some sort of field trip she had, so I have to walk home by myself. When I close my locker, Peeta appears there, leaning against the locker right next to it. "Hey."

I'm about to haughtily ask him why he's there, but then I remember my promise to Prim. "Hi." Despite the promise, however, I still turn around and walk away from him.

"So, what's up?" Peeta asks, keeping up with me easily.

I sigh and slow down. "Nothing much."

"You going to go find Prim? I thought the lower grades are down that way?" Peeta asks, pointing down the other direction. We arrive at the double doors at the school's entrance, and my hand reaches out to open it, but Peeta is being infuriating. He opens the door for me and smiles – I'm pretty sure he's teasing me, and yet, I find myself smiling back.

"Well, she went home early today. She had a sort of field trip," I explain.

"Down to the mines," he guesses. Accurately.

I smile wryly and nod. "That's right."

"Do you mind if I walk home with you, then?" Peeta asks.

Oh, no. Come on.

I stop. "Um, isn't your house the other way, though?"

"Well, then… good exercise?" he asks hopefully. He reminds me almost like Prim, in this way. I look up at him. He has such an innocent look, one that you would never find down in the mines – or one that you wouldn't like to find in the mines. I can almost imagine the pleasure on his face if I agreed for him to walk home with me today, and again I'm reminded of Prim. She would look exactly the same, when I tell her that Peeta walked home with me today.

"How about," I say, "I pass by your bakery, instead?"

Peeta raises a brow. "Why?"

I smile. "Good exercise?" Prim will love this.

He laughs. "Sure."

I'm surprised by how easily conversation comes between us. We have a remarkable amount in common (at least, far more than I expected): everywhere between complaining about our state of life, and the homework we have in school. "Ah, my brother isn't going to be happy," he says suddenly. "I'm about five minutes late already."

"Oh, sorry," I apologize automatically.

He smiles. "Don't be. I've enjoyed talking to you – goodness knows it's more than what I've done, all this time I've known you. Anyway, I'd pick anything over work."

This, despite how much I've spoken to him today, catches me by surprise. "Sorry?"

"Anything over work?" he repeats, frowning.

"Yeah, I don't know… I just thought…" I feel my face turn red immediately. I just never imagined that town kids would be so sick of work. I thought they didn't have to work… as much. This shows my ignorance, I suppose. I mean, I'd seen Peeta beaten by his mother for feeding bread to a pig (supposedly)… but I guess I always thought that was just Peeta's mother.

Peeta half-smiles. "Ah, well… you'd be surprised. We don't get to eat even half of what we make for the district… and we have to make sure they're amazing. So that people like your sister look into the window and wish they had it." He doesn't seem too happy about this, though.

"That's too bad."

"Tell me about it." We get to his house, and we're standing awkwardly at the door. He and I both open our mouths to say something, but he gets his words out faster: "Would you like to come in? My brothers would love to meet you."

"Oh," I say suddenly. "I, um…"

"Don't worry," he says, smiling, "they're nothing to be afraid of."

I almost laugh. "I'm not afraid." I look in the direction of the Seam, where I should be. "Sure. I can spare a minute."

"Hey, Tompouce! Eddy!"

Peeta's two brothers come through the door from behind the bakery. I recognize them. Eddy fits flawlessly under "tall, dark, and handsome", I think, except for the dark part. He looks different from Tom and Peeta, in the way that he's light brown haired, with blue-gray eyes. All three brothers are tall and broad-shouldered; they look like they could pick me up and throw me over their shoulders – which, I wouldn't be surprised if true. Tom looks more like Peeta: a blonde, blue-eyed little boy sort of look, except that they have the build of a wrestler.

"Ah, don't call me that," says Tom dryly. "Not in front of a girlfriend."

Peeta says it faster than I do. "She's not my girlfriend. This is Katniss."

"Katniss!" cries Eddy. He grins. "So… you're Katniss."

I raise a brow. "Yes, I am…?"

Eddy laughs. "It's nothing. You're just… you're famous."

I know what they all say about me. Katniss, she's the girl whose father died in that mining accident. She was never the same again. They say she never laughs, or smiles. She's the hunter girl, with Gale. So handsome. Why does he even hang out with her? I smile wryly. "I know…"

"Peeta," Tom says, "talks about you a lot."

Oh. Why? I barely know him. He barely knows me. "Oh," I say, because I can't really think of anything else to say.

"Well, we're going to take off, Peeta," says Tom. "You going to be okay?"

Peeta obviously won't. He looks dead tired, but he says, "Of course. I'll see you both in the square later, then?" Right. The Games. I forgot.

"It was really nice meeting you, Katniss," says Eddy genuinely.

"Same for you guys," I say with a smile I know is rare, but these are Peeta's brothers. I feel obligated to be friendly. They wave one last time before walking out the door. I turn to Peeta. "You're going to be all by yourself here?"

"No, my mom's upstairs," says Peeta awkwardly.

"I can stay 'til…" I glance at the clock. It's 3:44. "I can stay ten minutes."

Peeta smiles. "Will you?"

"Sure. I can watch you work," I say. "I can't promise I'll be entertaining, but…"

"I can teach you to frost," he says, and I think he's joking so I laugh a little. "Seriously! Come on. You're a tough girl hunter. Afraid of some icing?"

I roll my eyes. "Bring it on, baker boy." I watch him, though, and his designs are so beautiful and intricate, that I actually _am _afraid when he hands me the pastry bag. "Okay, that's not fair."

Peeta almost smirks. "What's not fair?"

"You can't expect me to top that." I point accusingly toward the cake.

"I'm not." He shoves the pastry bag in my face, and I sigh. As I take it, I'm glaring apprehensively at the cake the whole time. "Show me what you've got."

"What should I…" my sentence trails off. It's amazing, how fabulously not-artistic I am.

Peeta gives me a cocky smirk. "Me?"

Again, I roll my eyes, but I begin to frost, anyway. He leans against the counter, watching me, and meeting my eyes whenever I look at him to see what he looks like. It's _unnerving_. Why are his eyes like that? He smiles when I finish. I already know it's way past ten minutes, but I don't mind. This was oddly fun, different from the tension-filled hunting atmosphere I have with Gale. I love that energy, but this was such a refreshing change.

"It's beautiful, Katniss," he says teasingly.

I laugh. "Thanks. It was fun… but I really should go…"

"Come on. Eat it before you go, at least," he says.

The offer takes me aback. "I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"I never…" I falter. "I don't want to eat something I can't share with my family."

"Then take it home to eat with them," Peeta offers. "You made it, you deserve to eat it. It's… what you're hunting, today. You shot it. You have it."

I shake my head. "No. You don't eat half the things of what you make. You said so yourself – I can't take it, Peeta. I mean, thanks for the offer, but…"

"I understand." Peeta nods.

I really doubt he does. "Thanks again, Peeta."

"No, thank _you_, Katniss."

I open my mouth to ask for what exactly he's thanking me for, but suddenly, I don't really care. I smile uncertainly to him, and then take my bag and leave. As I step out the door, I wonder if the Peeta-cake would have tasted nice.

* * *

I realize I'm humming _Constant as the Stars Above _as I pick berries with Gale, after hanging out with Peeta. It takes a long while until I realize that he's staring at me. I pause, and look to him. "What?"

"You were humming," he notes.

I nod slowly. "Yes..."

"I don't know," says Gale, "it's just..."

"It's just what?" I smile.

"It's not... what I'm used to."

My smile widens a bit into a grin, and I bump him with my hip. "Well, maybe times are changing." I woke up in an excellent mood this morning: the sun was up, the mockingjays were chirping, and _I _just felt in a good mood. I truly don't know why – we lost our last tribute last night. I'm sure I'd be going to school with a void. Our tributes weren't extraordinarily popular – nobody was – but there were still friends, and friends of friends. School just went on as normal, though.

Then, I arrived to now, with Gale, and my mood just sky rocketed. "Why are you so happy today?" Gale asks. "What's so special about today?"

"I honestly don't know," I say, frowning thoughtfully.

"Was it because of Mellark?" he asks a bit gruffly.

I raise a brow. "Sorry?"

"Mellark. You… walked home with him today," Gale says.

"Oh." I shrug. "Prim asked me to get to know him."

"Why?" Gale raises a brow, now. "Why Mellark? What good is this going to do for us?"

I feel a bit indignant, because according to Prim, Gale has a life. All of the sudden I have one, and he thinks that it's useless. "He's a nice guy." I feel myself blushing, and I'm not sure why – it's just strange, to _admit _that . I mean, I've always subconsciously known that Peeta's a nice guy, but admitting that sort of thing to Gale is sort of like a young girl admitting she has a "crush" on a boy.

Gale smiles. "Oh, yeah?"

"Sure."

He bumps my hip and asks teasingly, "Katniss have a crush?"

I roll my eyes. "What are we, Gale, eleven?" I still look over at him, though, and there's an undeniable tightness to his smile, like he believes he's right, and he's not happy with the thought. I smile and say gently, "You're always going to be my best friend. You're the best man, forever. You know that, right?"

"Of course, Catnip."

But the smile still doesn't reach his eyes.

"Oh, and no," I say, "that's not why I was so happy. I, um, got a good mark in history today." His smile fades, but he still looks a lot calmer. I feel proud to say that I'm _that person _who can make him smile quite like that.

We descend into silence, but it's okay. When we finish, we do our trading, and then to the square. We still have to watch the Games, even though we no longer have any tributes to cheer for. We pick up Prim along the way. She skips along cheerfully beside us, humming some song she learned in music class. I even join in. Gale hums – he's not a singer, and I imagine he's not confident with his singing voice, either. "Oh," says Prim suddenly, breaking off our stunning chorus.

The smile comes to my face almost instinctively. "Peeta," I say. He looks exceptionally tired; there are shadows under his eyes, and he has icing all over his pants and arms. "Hi."

"Hey, guys," Peeta greets. The smile is tired and forced.

"You look so…" Prim frowns, as if she can't think of a word that won't hurt his feelings.

"Tired," I finish. "When was the last time you slept, Peeta?" He didn't look like this when we were walking home together, though.

"I don't know, I've just been working all afternoon…" Peeta says. "Mind if I join you guys to watch today?"

"Of course not," I say immediately, before realizing that Gale stiffens up a little. Peeta still sighs and falls into step beside us. I look at him again, and can't believe I didn't notice – I had been staring at his face for about five minutes, you'd think I'd notice that his eyes were half-closed all the time. I murmur, "Wow… Peeta, you really should sleep…"

Gale points out flatly, "It's against the law."

Peeta smiles and nods. "Yeah. As much as I'd like to go sleep, I'd pick the Games over being arrested, any day."

I can't find any solution, so I just keep quiet. We take some seats at the square. There's Gale to my left, Prim to his left, and Peeta to my right. When the televisions start playing, and the crowd becomes hushed, Gale sighs. "Hey, Mellark."

Peeta yawns. "Yeah?"

"You can sleep on Katniss' shoulder. We'll cover for you," he says. Startled, I look to him and raise a brow. "He needs sleep. I've never been _that _tired."

Peeta doesn't need to be asked twice. I lean on Gale so that I'm steadier; Peeta rests his chin on my shoulder, and closes his eyes. I know he's sleeping, because he's never looked that peaceful awake. I realize that Gale is watching him, too. He squeezes my hand. "I'm glad you gave him a chance."

"Why?" I ask.

"He is a nice guy. He's so easy to like," Gale admits. "He… seems like someone I could be friends with."

I pause, and glance one more time to Peeta. He breathes evenly. His eyes are closed, not creased. I squeeze Gale's hand back. "He seems like someone I could be friends with, too."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Prim smile.

* * *

Thank you for reading :D

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	4. Mr Likeable & Ms Sullen

**ILOVETARARIEGAN**: In case you missed my reply to your message on Tumblr, I'd just like to thank you for your enthusiasm, but request that you do not flood my reviews/Tumblr messages =) I need time to write, you know? I updated every day for a month, and I'm not about to do the same so soon. It gets irritating being forced to write after a while. Plus, I have school, sports, friends, and other writing projects aside from lack of inspiration. I am busy, and just because I get consistent pleading for an update, doesn't mean that I'll update. I _will _update soon after the prior update, but not because I'm being constantly poked and prodded. =) Thanks for the love, though.

**I don't own the Hunger Games**.

* * *

It is two days after Bee died that Peeta does the totally unexpected. Madge, the girl I usually eat lunch with, comes up to me. I survey her tray – it's kind of instinctive. Being the mayor's daughter, Madge usually has a substantially better lunch than I do, as was true today. She has a container of fruits, and pasta, which makes me look down at my sandwich and feel sorry for myself. Still, I had grown past my mouth watering when I looked at Madge's lunch. I'm used to it.

"Katniss?" she says, voice low. "Why is Peeta Mellark looking over here – why is he..."

I look over to where Madge's eyes are directed, and sure enough, Peeta Mellark is approaching us. I look at _his _tray: bakery food. "Hello, Katniss," he greets genially.

I realize he's talking to me after about two seconds (two seconds too long). "Oh. Hi, Peeta."

He smiles to Madge and nods his head in greeting, since he can't wave with his hands on his tray. "Hello to you, too, Madge."

"Hi," Madge greets, shortly but not unkindly. She looks to me, but she doesn't need to say anything to ask the question. The thing is, I don't know the answer, myself.

Peeta clears his throat. "Would you two mind if I ate with you today?"

"Uh, well, I don't mind," says Madge with a shrug.

I shrug, and we approach the table in the corner that Madge and I usually sit at. As we sit down, I suddenly realize a fear. I think about how Peeta always sits with his town friends, laughing, smiling, socializing. What is that, when you put it next to the lunch that Madge and I usually have?

But, once again, Peeta surprises me.

He talks to Madge about a geology test coming up, and he manages to include me in the conversation, even though I don't take that class with them. He cracks jokes that make Madge and (believe it or not) me, laugh very easily.

About halfway into lunch break, however, Madge says, "I need to study a little bit... I'm sorry to leave you both, but..."

"Oh, it's fine," says Peeta.

I shrug again and nod. "Yeah. It's fine."

Madge clears her tray, waves, and leaves me with Peeta. That's the only time I realize that I'm _alone_ with him. "Hey," says Peeta suddenly, "um, do you and your sister have time after school?"

"I, uh..." I hesitate. Obviously, Peeta wants to hang out with Prim and me after school, otherwise he wouldn't ask. Technically, we do have time, but...

"I was just thinking," Peeta says, noticing my discomfort, "that I could let Prim help me bake some of the cakes. It's Monday – so, uh, it's our least busy day, and we can have some snacks today. I'm sure Prim would like to try the cakes."

My first impression is suspicion, but I shrug. "Sure. I guess I – we – could."

"Excellent," he says cheerfully. Without missing a beat, Peeta continues, "Hey, in kindergarten, did you ever notice how Miss Tyler said 'again' really weirdly...?"

...

"Where are we going, Katniss?" Prim asks, before noticing that Peeta is standing by my locker. "Peeta!" She looks to me and grins in approval. Approval of _what_, exactly, well – I'm not sure I want to know.

"We're going to the bakery," says Peeta.

"We're going to the bakery?" says Prim, putting emphasis (that is obvious to me) on the 'we'.

Peeta nods. "It's a surprise, though."

Prim's eyes light up. I feel almost jealous that Peeta pleases her so easily. She looks up to me. "Do you know what we're doing?" I smile and nod. "What is it?"

I put an arm around her shoulders. "Well, surprises are best when you don't know what it is before the actual surprise."

Prim rolls her eyes. "Fine. Is it going to be a good one?" She directs the question toward Peeta, so I let him reply.

"I hope so."

Just as we're out the door, Peeta says suddenly, "We should invite Gale!"

"We – what?" I stammer, startled.

"Yeah!" says Peeta. "He has one year 'til he goes down to the mines. He should enjoy it."

I frown. "He has to work, you know. We have families to feed, Peeta." The way I say it _is _a bit nasty, implying that Peeta doesn't have to do the things that Gale and I need to do. _We _can't spend all our free time inviting... friends... to frost cakes.

"Oh," says Peeta, realizing what he said, "I'm sorry –"

"It's okay; don't be offended," Prim interrupts. "Katniss talks so little, the censor in her brain that tells her not to say rude things has disappeared."

Peeta laughs, and I smile. He says, "I'm sure that's not true."

"I'll go run and see Gale, anyway," I say reluctantly. "If he says yes, I'll bring him to the bakery as soon as possible."

I give them a wave before rushing off in the direction of the Seam. Gale gets out of class a bit earlier than Prim and I do, so he gets to walk home early, but he'll just be a few blocks away. "Gale!" I call out, spotting the familiar mop of hair, just at the edge of the Seam.

"Oh, hey, Catnip," he greets.

"Come. Peeta's inviting us – that's you, me, and Prim – to the bakery," I say.

"Did _he _invite me, or did you?" he asks. I wonder if I'm imagining the suspicious tone to his voice.

After contemplating for a moment what the correct answer is, I say slowly, "He did. Prim wants you to come, too." Okay, so she didn't explicitly say so, but she would have said so, if she were asked. Prim is Prim. She's nice like that.

"Okay..." Gale says, turning around. I'm still not sure what the right answer is.

"What do you think of him?" I ask, since this is the first time I've been able to talk to Gale alone since... well, it's been a while, really.

Gale scratches the back of his neck. "Really? He's... so nice, it's almost annoying."

I smile. "What?"

"Come on. Don't lie. You've noticed it," he says. "I don't know why he's doing it, though."

"Noticed _what_? Doing _what_?" I ask, exasperated.

Gale throws his head back in frustration. "You know, how, sometimes, you just can't get along with a person? I've gotten so used to not being a people person... and then Mr. Likeable comes along and just becomes stubbornly likeable. I've tried not liking him, but there's just no part of him that I can really not like."

"Why don't you want to like him?"

The second my mouth closed, I realized that it was the wrong question to ask. Gale hesitates. "Why do you want to like him?"

"I don't. I just do," I admit. "Like you said. He's Mr. Likeable. You were saying something else, though – you don't know why he's doing... it?"

"Why he's being friends with you and Prim." Gale pauses, thinks for a second, and then adds, "And me."

I realize I don't know, so I just walk in silence with him to the bakery. The door is wedged open, and the bakery smell wafts out. I can feel Gale shift beside me. We stand together outside the bakery, stopping together without really realizing it. It smells like dough, wheat. It smells like a full stomach, a healthy family – things that Gale and I have only really ever dreamed about. The scent is like everything within reach, if our arms were just a few inches longer. So close, but not close enough. I hold my breath, because I feel like getting used to satisfaction isn't a good thing.

"It's okay to breathe, Catnip," Gale reminds me gently.

I sigh, and walk past him through the bakery doors. The smell is painfully and unfortunately pleasant. It makes my stomach rumble. My tongue begs for the same privilege that my nose has been granted. Peeta smiles, and tosses the two of us an apron each. "Don't worry. You'll have some bread in a second."

"Is that allowed?" says Gale warily.

"It's Monday," says Peeta with a shrug. "You three can keep a secret."

"Katniss, Katniss, look!" says Prim. She points at the circles of cookie dough laid out on an old silver tray. She takes my arm and probably means to pull it, but I gravitate toward her, anyway. "I'm going to decorate these ones."

I smile. "How are they going to look like?"

"It's a surprise," Prim teases.

I laugh, and look up to notice that Peeta is looking at me as he works on another batter of something. He gives me a quick smile before turning his eyes back down to the bowl. "Hey, Gale," he says smoothly, "can you mix this for me?"

I've seen Gale take down deer, calmly take steps away from bears and wild cats. Forget that – every day, I've been right beside Gale as he breaks the law and risks his life for his family (and mine, really). I have never seen him look so reluctant and so terrified of something. Never would I have thought that Gale would be so afraid when it came to mixing a batter.

Peeta notices, of course. He grins, not at all condescendingly, and pushes the bowl and spatula in his direction. "C'mon, Hawthorne."

The last name usage is a trigger. A little roughly Gale takes the bowl, but the short-lasting confidence has faded, the second he puts the spatula into the batter. Unfortunately for him, Peeta moves on to find something in the pantry. Gale looks up to me, lost. Prim giggles. I shake my head, amused. "Gale, you stick the spatula in the batter, and turn it around the bowl."

"Until what?" says Gale, reluctantly bringing the spatula around the edge.

"Until Peeta gets back," Prim replies.

Which isn't too much later. Peeta comes back, arms full of icing buckets and pastry bags. "Well, you'd think someone who uses a bow and arrow a lot would be able to put more arm strength into that." Much to my surprise, this appears to be within Gale's sense of humor, because Gale starts laughing.

"You'd think," Gale agrees, handing the bowl back to Peeta, who takes it and expertly begins mixing. Gale mutters, in the same teasing tone, "Show off."

"Feel free to shoot down some squirrels with me," says Peeta. "I'd gladly show off my lack of ability."

Gale smiles, but there's that inexplicable discomfiture – at least, in my eyes. He doesn't _want _to like Peeta, but he and Peeta just mold together easily. I don't know why Gale's so reluctant to like him. If Prim's right, Gale has been friendly. More often than I have been, even – not like that's really saying anything, but still, Gale has been... a lot like me.

Prim bounces on her toes. "Can we bake them now, Peeta, please, please, please?"

Peeta tosses over the mitts. "Sure. Pull down the oven all the way, and then put the tray on the top."

Prim pulls the oven mittens over her dainty little fingers and takes the tray. With a grin plastered on her face, she gently slides the tray on the rack in the oven. "Do I close it, Peeta?" When he nods, she slowly closes the oven door, still bouncing up and down.

"Congratulations." Peeta smiles, holding up a hand for a high five, and Prim hits it without much force. "Aw, come on. _Weak_," he teases.

Prim swings her arm back and hits his hand with a resounding smack.

The bell at the door tinkles as the bakery door opens wider, revealing Tom. "Well, well! It's just a regular old party here – is this what you do with your friends, Peeta? Make them work?"

Peeta rolls his eyes. "I thought I'd surprise Prim here and let her help me make some cookies."

"Primrose Everdeen!" Tom says brightly. "The little girl with the cheese."

Prim beams, happy to be recognized. "That's me."

"Hey, Mellark," Gale greets, nodding his chin upward toward Tom.

"Ah, hey, Hawthorne," says Tom, switching to his tough-man persona. I find it funny and smile. Peeta notices, grinning and winking at me. I'm still smiling as I avert my eyes – but I'm wondering, really, why is he always looking at me? Why does he keep noticing what I'm thinking, what my face says? Tom looks to Peeta. "So… does this mean I don't have to do my shift today?"

"You're taking mine tomorrow," says Peeta with a grin.

Tom rolls his eyes. "Of course .Thanks, anyway, Peeta." He gives us all a wave before heading to the back of the bakery, to the Mellark's house.

While waiting, Peeta shows us how he makes the bread .Gale and I watch in amusement as Peeta lets Prim beat the dough. When it's finished, so are the cookies – luckily, we're saved from being tempted. I can still catch Prim sneaking hungry glances toward the bread sitting on the counter, though. I put an arm around my little sister as I remind her, "We'll have something to eat in a sec, remember?"

"Oh, I know," says Prim. She sighs, and then says, "It just makes me so hungry. It just… it looks just like that first – do you remember it, Katniss?"

I stiffen. "What first?"

"The first loaves," Prim says insistently.

Peeta is looking at me again. I nod. "Yeah, I remember. That made it taste better… we were so hungry, hm?"

Prim smiles. "Yeah… it was the best bread I ever had. Thanks for it, Peeta."

His smile is so sweet and genuine. "You are very, very, very, welcome, Primrose."

I back away when Peeta brings out the tray. Even Gale moves forward to the counter. I swear I can see some excitement on his usual poker-face. Prim seizes the pastry bag that Peeta offers, and unlike me, doesn't hesitate to start drawing. From afar, I can see what she draws. A cheese, an arrow, a bow, and a cookie. The names might as well be written: Prim, Katniss, Gale, and Peeta. I smile. Peeta backs away to let Prim and Gale decorate.

"Hey," he says, "come here. I have something for you."

I follow curiously into the pantry, where there's an old-looking refrigerator – separate from the bakery one, I can tell – that Peeta opens. The plate he pulls out is holding the Peeta-cake. The smile comes to my face automatically.

"You have to eat it now," says Peeta, a twinkle in his eye. "Prim and Gale will be eating, too. Also, you're giving me something in return, so you have no excuse."

"What am I giving back to you?" I ask, still not taking the plate.

Peeta shrugs. "Your labor. Also, your friendship, and Gale's and Prim's." I half-smile, and reluctantly take the plate. He hands me a fork. "Bon appétit."

"What's that?" I ask, cutting out a piece.

"It's an old thing they used to say, centuries ago. 'Good eating', I think. Or 'enjoy your meal'," says Peeta.

I take a bite. The cake is delicious and flavorsome, something I'm not entirely used to. Come to think of it, I don't even remember the last time I had a cake… I certainly haven't had one during birthdays in recent years. "It's delicious," I murmur, savoring the taste as it rolls across my tongue. It's so unusual to me. The taste is entirely different from the gamy, almost raw, flavor from food that I'm used to… like how any game that I would have caught a day or two ago would not taste this good.

I muse that this is almost like art. The thought and work put into the cake isn't the same kind of thought or work that Gale and I put into our hunting.

"I'm glad you like it." Peeta smiles. "C'mon, we can go back."

I'm still eating as I walk back with Peeta into the bakery.

"What's that?" Prim asks almost indignantly.

Peeta cuts in before I can reply, "Katniss made that cake; I thought she ought to have it."

Gale looks over, and notices my interpretation of Peeta's forehead – his blonde waves falling over his forehead. I don't think it's too obvious, but I eat hastily anyway. I move to hide the cake from Gale's eyes, on Prim's other side. The cookies are half done. There are flowers, dandelions, stars… like doodles in a young girl's schoolbook.

"May I finish the last five?" Prim requests timidly.

"Sure," say Gale and Peeta together, and the three of us head to the living room of the Mellark house.

Somehow, we end up pushing aside the coffee table; Gale and Peeta start an arm wrestling competition. ("Best out of three", "no, you know what? How about five?", "make it nineteen!") It's funny to see them like this. Gale isn't normally so… playful, and I didn't peg Peeta for the type to be competitive. I sit on the couch as the two of them discuss school sports. Again, I'm surprised. Gale is my best friend, and yet, I never realized how interested he is in the culture of our tiny little school – but then again, maybe he knows that I wouldn't be interested.

"Are you kidding?" says Peeta, scoffing. "Rudy never should've won that one against Smithy –"

"Rudy completely deserved it. Smithy's a way better fighter," Gale argues. The thing is, they're not… you know, _yelling _at each other. They're not being hostile. They're just… talking. It's the strangest thing, and I can't even decide why I think it's weird.

"Hey, guys, I finished," says Prim, walking in. I smile, because once again, she and Peeta show how they are very alike. Her rosy cheeks are smeared with blue and pink icing, the apron – which wasn't too clean in the first place, anyway – is splattered with color.

"Hey, Peeta, where are your parents?" asks Gale.

"They're at a friend's." Peeta shrugs. "If it's not their shift, they're not usually here unless they have money stuff to work on."

Gale continues conversation. "So then it's smart you brought us here today."

"Sorry?" Peeta looks surprised.

"I know your mom doesn't approve of Seam brats," says Gale smoothly, and my face heats up, for some reason. "And, I mean, I get that, but…"

"She doesn't approve of people from the Seam, yes," Peeta says wearily. He peers over the counter to look at Prim's cookies. "Well, she doesn't approve of people, generally – wow, Prim, this is beautiful."

Prim's smile widens instantaneously. "Really?"

Peeta nods, and puts an arm around her, just like I do. I stuff down the irrational feeling of jealousy that bubbles in my stomach. "If you ever get sick of helping people live longer, Prim, we could use you here."

She laughs. "Well… I'd love to, but I love healing people even more."

After our snack, Gale, Prim, and I have to leave. I watch Peeta's face as we say our goodbyes. His smile is there, but it is only _half _there; he seems sad. Gale claps him on the shoulder – as close as a hug as it will get between two boys, especially when one of them is Gale – and says, "I want that rematch, Mellark. It's not over."

"Ha!" says Peeta, smirking. "We'll see about that." Gale just smiles in response.

I don't know what to do when I say goodbye, though – I can't clap him on the shoulder, hug him, or – anything. Embarrassed, I say, "Thanks for the afternoon, Peeta. I enjoyed myself. Also, the cake and the cookies were delicious."

"You're welcome," says Peeta, smiling. As if for consolation, he holds his hand out. Still embarrassed, I shake it.

When I let go, Prim throws her arms around Peeta. "Thank you so much, Peeta! I had _so much _fun, and Gale and Katniss did, too, even though they aren't quite _enthusiastic_. You were awesome today."

Peeta is surprised for a moment, when he realizes that Prim is hugging him. Then, he warms up and hugs her back. He carries her for a moment and kisses her hair. "It was my pleasure, Primrose. Thank _you_."

My throat tightens, because I remember another man who once carried my sister, once kissed her blonde curls just like that. Prim's reaction is even similar. Her face lights up. Her smile widens, showing teeth. Peeta lets he down, and Prim gives him a last wave as we leave Peeta standing on his doorstep. As I walk in step with Gale and Prim, I realize that my little sister has lost a father figure just as much as I have. It's been years, and I haven't actually understood that Prim has missed him, too. Maybe even more. She wasn't as lucky as I was: she only got him for a short time, and even then, my father and I got along easily, more so than he did with Prim.

"Who would have thought?" says Prim.

"Thought what?" asks Gale.

Prim gives me a sly, furtive smile. "That Peeta, town kid, would end up liking Katniss."

"What?" I say, blushing hotly. I hate my cheeks for it.

"You totally _noticed_," says Prim with a giggle. "He never stopped _looking _at you."

Gale laughs. "Prim…"

"What?" says Prim innocently. "It's true."

"Why would he, anyway?" I point out. "He's a town kid, and like you said, Gale – Mr. Likeable. Then, there's me. I'm a Seam brat, plus I'm really sullen and hostile and… disagreeable."

Prim hooks her arm with mine. "That's my point! I mean, I love you, Katniss, and you're not _always _disagreeable, but you are to most people. I was wondering… who would have guessed that Mr. Likeable would end up liking Ms. Sullen?"

...

Ten tributes left. Among them, the little girl Rue from District Eleven.

However, there's also Cato and Clove, the Careers from District Two.

Prim holds my hand as we watch in our house. We have no one to cheer for anymore, but we want the little girl Rue to win. The only definition I know of the word "rue" is not a pleasant one: "rue" is "bitterly regret". Prim reminded me this morning, however, that rue is also a shrub, with an occasional flower. Just like a primrose, it is light. If it landed on your fingers, you would hardly feel it. "It's the 'sour herb of grace'," Prim had said.

"Oh, they're right behind you," breathes Mother, standing behind us as we sit on the couch, watching the screen.

Rue is flying from tree to tree. Since Bee died, she's been doing everything so automatically, so… carelessly. She just moves, really. Nothing else. Even her expressions have been blank and meaningless. Her District partner – a huge-but-silent boy named Thresh – has been avoiding her, or anyone else, really. I can tell that he isn't entirely heartless. He _can _kill, but he only does if he's attacked.

The seductive, beautiful girl from District One, with the unfortunate name, "Glimmer", is still alive. She has teamed up with the born-to-fight District Two tributes: Cato and Clove.

I imagine if Rue stood next to Cato, she's hardly be able to reach the top of his head, and it frightens me.

There's also the sneaky redhead, whose name has slipped my mind. Prim calls her "Foxface". She's no big deal right now, but by the way she's been stealing food, it's easy to tell that she's pretty intelligent – more so than some of the Careers. She's waiting for them to kill themselves off, I think, which is what I'd be likely to do, if I were in her place.

Cato, Clove, and Marvel are walking along the trees that Rue is flying across. My hand is sweating, and I've just noticed. "Oh, Katniss," whispers Prim, terrified. "What if …"

"I'm going to cut that off," I whisper back. "Sh. We'll just have to see for ourselves, I guess."

In a moment, Rue realizes she's being followed. Glimmer aims her bow and arrow at Rue, and I scowl. I can tell that she's inexperienced. Judging by how stupid, stupid, Glimmer is holding her bow, she's right handed. Her left eye is closed, but I'm going to presume she's left-eyed, meaning she should close her _right _eye. The aim is going to be entirely off, if I'm right, which I may not be, since right or left handedness has nothing to do with ocular dominance, but…

The arrow misses, anyway. It would have, even if the correct eye were closed, because she's so clumsy in holding it. For someone who's trained all her life for the Games, she's awful with archery.

Rue clambers up higher, and she disappears into the leaves, out of the viewing from the camera. The Careers yell at her to come down. You can't help your death. You're going to die, either way. Let's just make it quicker. I want to hit them right across the face.

All of the sudden, something falls from the leaves. Prim screams beside me.

I notice it, because I've seen it with Gale, in the woods. The hive isn't as tell-tale as the gleaming gold bodies of the tracker jackers.

The Careers all scream and scramble apart, but it's too late. The mutts buzz and rush after Glimmer, who was the only one the hive hit. Prim closes her eyes. She shrieks, twitches. Her fingers are swollen. The rest of her body disfigured, anyway. The lumps of the stingers explode around her, spewing greenish liquid onto what was her flawless skin. I flinch away from the screen, remembering that it _is _a screen, and the world is watching this girl die. I wonder what she is thinking as she dies.

The camera suddenly moves away from her, revealing Rue. She has been stung. A silent scream, wanting to be audible, is obvious, because of her open jaw. Tears streak down her dark brown face from the pain. The camera cruelly highlights the disgusting, oozing, tracker jacker venom running down her legs and arms.

The world watches on.

* * *

Review, please! :) Updating ASAP, yes.


	5. A Kiss

This one's dedicated to Danika because she pwns! Merry Christmas, mon amie Californien :)

Sorry for the shortness of this chapter :) They're not usually this brief, I know, but I felt like ending it there.

Thank you to **Tawnyfur** for catching my grammar mistake in this one! :D I appreciate it. :)

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

...

She only has _three_ tracker jacker stings, but of course, it's stupid to say "only", since one tracker sting is already one too many. Rue treats the sting with some ointment, but then she finds something as she pads along, dazed and tired. She's alive, which is as much as we can be thankful for right now. Rue finds leaves, which she seizes from the shrub eagerly. I recognize them, because Mother and Prim have them to heal – we don't use them much, though. We don't have to, luckily. Rue chews on the leaves with some rapid desperation, and then spits them out. She presses it against her stings.

"Ah," she breathes with relief.

"Smart," says Mother.

Prim comments, "I wonder where she learned that from?"

"Who knows?" I say, leaning back in relief. Broadcasting for tonight ends at this moment, but it'll start again soon. "She's alive."

Prim looks at me in surprise. "Wow... you're really worried about her."

I feel the blood coloring my cheeks. "I guess."

"Katniss, I feel like I don't even know you anymore," says Prim, amazed. "You're getting to know Peeta, you're _liking _him, and then you're showing compassion for some girl you barely even know!"

I smile sheepishly. "Ah, well —"

"I like that," says Prim. She throws her arms around me, and all of the sudden, I'm not at all embarrassed of my compassion's sudden arrival. As I mess up my little sister's hair, rather aware of me suddenly being so benevolent – but I'm pretty sure I'm not afraid of benevolence anymore.

...

"Ah. I can't _wait _for the break," Peeta says, tossing his head back in tiredness. I stand at his locker, my thumbs hooked around my backpack straps. He shoves the notebooks into his bag.

I raise a brow. "The break isn't for two months," I remind him.

"So? I still can't wait those two months," says Peeta, grinning.

I shake my head, amused. "Well, I guess you're not the only one." After a thought, "You know, I never imagined that you'd be one of those people who find the break that exciting. I didn't think that school was so bad for you."

"Why?" he asks, the tips of his lips curling into a smile. It's funny, how a smile changes a person. I know how it did for Gale, and it's never surprised me, since it's easy for Gale to look substantially different because of a smile. Peeta, though – Peeta's retained his little boy look growing into a man, so it's hard to understand why he looks even more agreeable when he smiles. I never thought he could look even_ more _like someone you wished you were friends with. "Kat? What are you staring at?"

I blush. "Sorry. Got distracted. What were we saying?" That's not the first time he called me 'Kat' – it was the first time this morning. I decided I liked it.

"I was asking you why you think that school is... easy for me?" he says.

"Oh. I mean that it wasn't so bad for you," I explain. "It's just that... I wish I could _work _more, you know? I don't believe that school really has a point for me. For most Seam kids. What's the point of learning if we can't really get anything from it? There isn't much to the mines. Not much to learn. But _you _have a future, and friends... school is worth something for you. I don't have a future or friends."

He smiles and bumps my hip as we walk toward Prim's classroom, almost too comfortably for my liking. "What am I? A yogurt cup, I guess?"

I grin wryly. "All right; I have friends. What's your excuse for my future?"

That's where he hesitates. "I don't have one, either, Katniss. I'm doomed to frost and bake for the rest of my life."

"Oh, your life is_ so_ hard," I say, my faux-dramatic voice feigning sorrow.

Peeta laughs. "I can't wait to tell Gale and your sister. 'Hey, guys! Guys! I got _Katniss _to make a _joke _today!'"

"You deserve a cookie."

He grins. "I'm getting there, Katniss. I'm getting there."

"Getting where?" I ask, leaning against the wall next to the door of Prim's classroom.

"I'm getting you to be happy," he says cheerfully. He smiles that smile again, making my lips curl up identically. I wonder for a moment if maybe he's not too far from his destination.

Peeta walks home with Prim and me. My mother loves him. The first time Prim and I brought him home, she teased me and said that he is rather handsome. I rebutted this by pointing out that Gale is rather handsome, as well – Mother just shook her head. "That's different," she said. Something about what she said bothered me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. Still can't.

Gale and I go for our usual hunt. We end, as we always do, at our spot. "Why, Catnip?" he says in our silence. I'm used to our silence, but the way he breaks it – with that question – makes it weird.

"Why, what?" I ask, startled.

"Why Peeta? Why... are we friends with him?" he says.

I frown, raising a brow. "if you don't like him, you don't have to be friends with him, you know –"

"It's not that," he interrupts. "I like him... but I don't know why you're so _eager _to be friends with him. I know you said you wanted to please Prim, but now –"

"It started out like that," I say ,"but I genuinely like him. He's..." But the words get choked, sticking on my tongue. He's... he's kind, funny, genuine, real, happy, refreshing, amusing. I can't say any of those words, for some reason. They make me awkward, restless – but what other way can I put it, in a way to explain for Gale's benefit? He's all those things, yes, but he's also... well, he's _Peeta_.

"He's what?" Gale presses.

"Like you said. Likeable," I say lamely.

Gale presses his lips together. "You know how Prim said he likes you? I was just wondering if you like him back."

My face heats up, but I say smoothly, "Well, Gale, let's not be subtle about it."

"Kat..." I stiffen up, because I don't want him to call me that for the same reason I don't want Peeta to call me Catnip. Hastily, Gale says, "Katniss – do you?"

"How do you even know he likes _me_?" I ask, raising a brow. "Prim might be wrong."

Gale laughs humorlessly. "Katniss, anyone can see it in the way he looks at you – but you, I'm not sure about."

I smile. "C'mon, Gale. You know me best. You'd be able to tell if I liked Peeta – which you know I don't."

"Really?"

"Yes," I insist. "I promise."

We continue our work in silence, much to my relief. I hate talking about Peeta and what _might _be going on between us, especially to Gale. He's seemed so accepting of Peeta, but at the same time, he's been so possessive. I understand it. I mean, _we _are best friends, and it's hard to imagine anyone else barging into that, but I do wish he'd lay off sometimes. I should be allowed to make new friends.

"Catnip," Gale says suddenly, voice cutting through the silence.

I turn to him. His eyes meet mine, with a strange determination. It's not fierce, but it's firm. He grits his teeth, as if he's fighting himself to make a decision. I open my mouth to ask what he wants, but I find out in a few seconds. He closes the space between us, arm going around my waist. His lips press against mine, effectively freezing me. I don't know why I don't pull away – does this bother me? Or am I just too stunned to move? My fists rest on his chest; my arms create a sort of barrier between us. When he pulls away, his face is flushed, his eyes not meeting mine.

I stare at him, awed. "But I –" My voice cracks, and my sentence disappears. I don't know what I wanted to say.

Gruffly, he says, "I just had to do that, at least once."

The fingers on my right hand brush against my lips, my left fist still held up. It's still hovering there. I'm stiff, trying to digest what just happened. "Wait!" I cry suddenly, when he's about ten feet away. "Gale!" I chase after him, coming to a halt an arms' length from him.

"What." His voice is flat and monotonous. He stands where he was when I stopped him. Gale doesn't turn to me.

"But – I – can't I at least have an explanation?" I whisper.

"An explanation for what?" he asks, turning around sharply. "Do you need an explanation for the fact that I love my best friend? I don't -" He inhales, looking away for a moment, and then back down to me. "I don't _want _it to be like this, sometimes, Katniss. I've listened to you for years, talking about how you won't fall in love with anyone, marry anyone, won't ever bring someone into this terrible life. All the while, I -"

"No," I interrupt him, voice hushed. _Gale loves me_. "Please, Gale..."

"What?" he demands.

"You know I can't -"

"I _know_." Gale's eyes close tightly. "I just told you. I needed to do that at least once."

"Why now, though?" I ask. "Why not later? Or earlier?" I see his eyes direct to the ground, and I have a feeling of _why_, now. I purse my lips as his lips form the word:

"Mellark."

I sigh. "Gale, you know there's nothing going on between the two of us."

He stares at me for a moment. I will him to say something. To agree. To realize that this is all a mistake. After a few seconds of silence, I will him to just say anything. I'm scared that this is what our relationship will end up being: awkward silences after the kiss. Nothing the same after the kiss. He just sighs, waves a hand, and turns around. "I'll see you around, Katniss."

This time, I don't go after him.

...

It's funny that I decide that the solution to the problem (or, at least, the solution to my anxiety) is the creator of the problem. Hardly a few minutes after Gale, I rush to the bakery. I don't know why I've associated Peeta with solace, but I have. I see him at the window, setting up the cakes. I come to a halt in front of the window. My face must give me away, because the smile is wiped away from Peeta's face. He rushes out and comes to see me. "What's wrong?"

"I – I -" I bite my lip, because the tears are coming, and I don't want to. I don't cry. Crying is weakness.

"Hey, it's okay," says Peeta. "You're fine..." His voice is soft, understanding. He doesn't even know what he's being understanding about.

"Can we go inside?" I croak pathetically.

Peeta hesitates. "My mother's inside. Come, we can go around the back." His arm slings around my shoulder, and I slump, letting him lead me inside. He takes me upstairs, into his room, which I haven't seen before. He lets me sit on the bed.

"Gale kissed me," I mumble, not watching for Peeta's expression.

He kneels down in front of me. I find that his face is completely devoid of any negative emotions – as far as I can see. He looks relaxed. He takes my hands and squeezes them. "I don't get the problem. You don't like him?"

"I don't like _anyone_! I don't want anyone to like _me_!" I burst out distressingly, my mind a bubbling pit of confusion. I'm not sure about what I want to say. "No one _should _like me. I don't want that! He complicated it, and I don't know what to do about it. No one should love me. I'm not even that big of a deal..." The last part comes out as a mumble. I hang my head in shame.

"Kat," he says gently, "shh. Listen. You shouldn't be talking to me about this. You should be talking to Gale."

I shut my eyes, trying _not _to remember what happened. "I did."

"What happened?"

"He..." I hesitate, because I don't want Peeta to know that he was involved in the conversation. "He walked away, after I asked him the wrong question."

Peeta sighs.

Downstairs, I hear his mother yell, "Peeta? Where are you? The cakes aren't finished!"

His eyes don't leave mine as he calls back, "I'll be right down, Mother! Have to use the bathroom!"

"I should go," I murmur, getting ready to stand. "It's not a good -"

"Wait," he says immediately. "You're not leaving because my mother said so, because you're my friend, you're upset, and this is about you, not me or her. You're not leaving because I'm busy. You're leaving because you know you have to talk to him again, and this time, fight for him. Okay?"

"Okay," I mumble helplessly.

Peeta pulls me up and to him; I welcome the hug. He then holds me at shoulder length. "Kat, you are the strongest person I know, okay? You can handle talking to Gale."

I smile a little. "Thanks, Peeta. I needed this."

"It's no problem." He smiles back. "Come on, before she comes up and finds you."

...

**REVIEW, PLEASE! :)**


	6. To Make Things Worse

Happy 2011, my lovely readers! I hope you all are ready to pwn.

I kind of exploded in panic upon seeing that I had 0 visitors and hits on any of my fanfiction stories (which hasn't happened since August), so I knew I had to do something. However, this one's a bit shorter than the others, because I thought it'd be fun to leave things with more of a cliffie.

**I don't own the Hunger Games.  
**

* * *

Funny, how I'm more frightened to talk to my best friend than to some guy I've just started being friends with. That tells you some rather uncomfortable truths, doesn't it? I hide at the corner close to his house – I can see his head through the windows. He's taking care of Posy, who's busy playing with something. Even from where I am, I can see the shadow of irritation still lingering on his face, in his furrowed brows and locked jaw. How could I face him?

_Do it_, I can hear Peeta-in-my-mind say. _He's your best friend_.

It's a sad feeling, to be afraid of knocking on the door of your best friend's house.

"Katniss!" says Hazelle, looking at me in surprise.

I smile a bit sadly at her, and then peek through the door to look at Gale. "Gale? Can we talk?"

He meets my eyes, and I'm sure that he's ready to say "no", but he doesn't. Instead, he stands up and walks out the door. I direct our stance so that I'm standing in front of the door – _don't let him run off again_, Peeta-in-my-mind says.

"What."

"Look, Gale, I'm sorry, okay?" I say timidly, "but _you _know why I can't do this."

"This," he repeats. "Ha. 'This', meaning our relat-"

"Come on," I say tiredly. I know him, and I know what he's trying to do. He's trying to make me feel guilty. "Please don't make this any harder than it has to be." He glares at me, and I recognize that same old fire that both of us share.

He takes a step closer to me. "Katniss, I'm not asking you to marry me, or have children with me. I'm simply asking -"

_Say something_, Peeta says to me.

"Yes," I said, "I do love you, Gale, but not enough for anything between us to happen." The words tumble out of my mouth unexpectedly – both to me and Gale, it seems. I splutter, "No, wait. Not 'but': '_because_'. Nothing can happen between us _because _I – I..."

My sentence trails off.

"Say it."

This is it, I think. He's asking me to confirm it. He's asking if it's true. If I truly believe that I do... well. That I do you-know-what him. He looks at me intensely, eyes locked determinedly on my face and his eyebrows knit. I can see his jaw tightening.

"Just say it. No explanations. No 'buts'."

The Peeta-in-my-head has no advice. _This should be all you, Kat._

I clench my fist. "I love you." There are so many explanations and 'buts' that I could add to it, though. But not enough. But not in that way, not really. But I can't. But I don't want to. But. But. But.

Gale stares at me, and I can tell that he, for some reason, doesn't believe me yet. "What about Peeta?"

"This again?" I ask exasperatedly. "Gale!"

"It took me several months to get you to smile back at me," he reminds me. "I wanted to be friends with you from that very first day, but you didn't. Yet, along comes Mr. Happy, loaded with cookies and smiles and cake and it's not even a struggle to get you to like him."

"Our fathers had just died when we met," I hiss. I'm angry, now, that he's being so unfair to me. "I didn't _want _to smile. I didn't _want _to feel happy."

"It had been like that for a long time, up until you decided to be friends with_ him_! It was always the family as the priority."

"The family _is _always the priority," I snap. "Peeta isn't taking that away. We're not eating off silver platters, but we're living. What kind of – why are you stopping me from making friends? What kind of _best friend _is that?"

Gale's eyes widen. "What? That isn't fair. He's a -"

"I'm not fair?" I say, feeling myself straighten up. "You're the one who's not being fair! I make a new friend, and just because he's a boy, you feel threatened? Gale, whether we knew Peeta or not, we were nevergoing to -"

"Do you really think that?" he asks quietly. "Do you really think that we were never going to eventually..."

"Yes." I fold my arms in front of my chest. "I never would have encouraged anything more between us than what we had."

_Had_.

Gale notices, too, and his eyes widen, stunned. He opens his mouth for a second, and takes a deep, but quiet, breath. "I see."

He doesn't even care. He doesn't even want to fight for me.

At this point, I just can't fight anymore, either. Nothing would have been the same again, anyway. I wouldn't have been able to stand anywhere near him, knowing that he actually cared for me that way. I press my lips together.

"I'll see you around, Gale." I make to turn around, and then pause. "You know where to find me."

…

Peeta, of course, eventually comes to visit. I avoid him in school: I make excuses to eat lunch elsewhere, I leave school early, get to school late. It's strangely relieving to see him again – but at the same time, it worries and irritates me. It seems like this boy is the cause and solution to all my problems lately. My life felt so much simpler without the intervention of others. It was just Gale, Mother, Prim, me, and some others. But those 'some others' didn't matter, not in the same way that Peeta matters.

"It didn't work out well with Gale, did it?" he says, a small smile on his face.

"Yeah." I sigh. I'm a little frustrated that I'm so happy to see him. It shouldn't be that way. I kind of wish I still had Gale, and I had fought Prim a little harder about being friends with Peeta.

Peeta's smile is sad, now. "I'm sorry. He looks angry at me, too."

"I'm not angry at you," I say immediately. "I'm just... see, the reason we... had our argument... he's jealous of you."

"Oh." Peeta doesn't sound _too _surprised. "I guess I kind of figured."

I continue, "And I just thought that maybe if he saw how I'm avoiding you, he'll change his mind."

Peeta shakes his head.

"What? Was that wrong?" I ask, frowning.

"You should have fought for him, Kat."

I flush, remembering that I had thought the exact same thing about Gale, those days ago. "But if he won't fight for me -"

"But you see," Peeta interrupts, "you can't do anything about him fighting for you. Why _convince _him to fight for you when you can fight for _him _yourself? If you truly cared for him, then you'd have made a better effort to keep him as a friend."

"Well, what if I don't truly care for -"

Peeta smiles. "Obviously you do, since you put quite the effort into avoiding me these past two days."

Again, I feel my face heat up. "Sorry."

He shrugs. "No big deal."

"Maybe it's okay to be without him for a little bit," I say, thinking out loud.

Peeta raises a brow and says, "But... why?"

"Change of pace."

He seems almost amused. "All right, then."

"Why don't you stay here to watch the Games?" I ask. There's only five of them: Cato, Clove, Thresh (Rue's District partner), Danika (the girl Prim called Foxface), and – can you believe it? – Rue. "It's probably going to end tonight, and I'm sure Prim would love to have you watch with us."

**(A/N: Yes, Danika, I am serious. [It was the first name I thought of.])**

Peeta nods. "I'd love to stay."

So, Peeta stays. I join him and Prim outside after helping Mother with some cooking. Outside, he's teaching Prim how to use a harmonica. I smile, watching them: I still think he's a lot like her, in a way, except with kind of fatherly tendencies... and it's something she needs. Does it bother me that Peeta is sort of surrogate dad, at this point?

Well, no, because he isn't. He's a big brother and a dad, all in one – things that I wish Prim has more of.

"Katniss, come look!" Prim says eagerly, seeing me standing nearby. "Listen to what I can do!"

I take a few steps to stand closer to them. Peeta is sitting cross-legged in the grass, looking up at Prim, who's standing, with a sort of eager look. He's so genuine. He truly likes her – but, much like Peeta, it's not hard to like my little sister. Prim takes a deep breath and begins to play the tune to the alphabet song. I'm grinning because she's enjoying herself, and it shows. Her eyes light up, and she's smiling between breaths. When she finishes, Peeta and I both automatically applaud. Prim curtsies.

"Teach me another song," Prim begs, dropping to her knees in front of Peeta, who grins, beginning to teach her another song, still a sort of nursery rhyme.

I've never seen her like this, and I think that's saying something. Peeta, though, is just excellent. I can tell he's a lot to do with why Prim's very happy. She just _likes _him – and why wouldn't she? It's just that other thing they have in common.

Mother calls us in a bit later, when the program starts. When we gather in front of the television, I'm all too aware of Prim sitting on Peeta's lap, and his body right up against mine on the couch. He doesn't seem to care nor notice – so I try not to care, either. Noticing is different, though; I'm definitely doing that.

The cameras are on Danika, who is skulking around Rue's little camp. Rue is busy foraging, not noticing Danika and her silent steps. Her feet dance lightly over the twigs, skipping over the things that crunch. She hides in the shadows, so her red hair couldn't possibly be caught in Rue's eyes. I see Danika as she steals some cheese (from sponsors) and berries (which were foraged). They go into Danika's bag. She eats the cheese first.

As she moves away, we go to Rue, who just happens to look around after Danika leaves. She's checking to see if anyone's around.

The cannon goes off.

The cameras stay locked on Rue for about five seconds. Then they cut to Danika. Clove. Cato. All four are alive – Clove and Cato have bloodied hands.

Thresh. District Eleven has only one tribute left. Prim lets out a little shriek and shuts her eyes abruptly. My breath gets caught in my throat. It's not easy to look at a decapitated body.

Just then, Cato swings his sword around, but Clove is expecting it. She dances out of the way, simultaneously pulling out her own weapon: her throwing knives. I know who's going to win. Cato's size and skill with a sword – a direct weapon – to Clove? The chances were slim.

"I'm rooting for the girl," Prim says, quietly, as if to not break the tension.

Peeta nods. "Me, too. I think she can do it."

I give them strange looks. "Why?"

"Cato's overexcited," Peeta explains. "Clove's focused."

I look back to the screen, at Cato's crazed grin and Clove's tensed expression. I hadn't even noticed.

Clove dodges his blows, growing more tired with every swipe – you can see it in her face and how she slows down as she moves. Her legs seem ready to collapse, and her throws aren't just dodged: they miss. In the end, though, she stabs the knife in Cato's ribs – but not before the edge of his sword glazes against her arm. Clove gasps, and the blood begins leaking. Cato drops to his knees, knife still between his bones.

Prim turns away, face just slightly above Peeta's shoulder. I turn my eyes slightly to see that Peeta has begun to stroke her hair.

Two cannons go off, but Clove is still quite alive. Not _very _alive, but she is alive.

The cameras flash to Cato's cold face and closed eyes. To Clove, again, and her obvious breathing. Then – Prim and I both exhale in relief – Rue, still getting food.

Danika died?

"How did she die?" Peeta asks, baffled – as much as any of us.

"It was the berries," Mother says quietly, who hadn't been offering her commentary. I'm not surprised. She tends to be more indifferent, or she at least doesn't shout off her opinions, about the Games. "Nightlock."

I'm surprised I didn't recognize the poisonous berries earlier. I know them: my father pointed them out to me, long ago. The knowledge was sort of ingrained, after learning about the berries.

Prim's eyes widen. "She _knew _they were poisonous! I'm sure she did! She knew that Foxface was sneaking into her food!"

"How do you know that?" asks Peeta.

"I'm sure she knew. They were just too perfectly placed. Plus she knew a lot about wild plants. She definitely would've known about nightlock," says Prim firmly, like she's trying to convince herself. "She knows what she's doing."

Prim truly believes she's going to win, and she's looking at every possible clue to prove that little Rue is going to win. I wish I could believe as strongly as she is – but the cameras turn to Clove, Rue's last competition.

"Oh, Katniss, come on," Prim urges, seeing my doubting expression. "Clove could bleed to death, and Rue's not just pretty much unharmed, she's _fed _and everything!"

I look at the bleeding arm. "I hope so, Prim. I really do."

The cameras zoom in on Clove. I stare at her unkempt look: the now wild look in her eyes, the flyaway hair, the dirt painted all over her skin. Her throwing hand is clamped over her bleeding wound – I don't know if that's the proper way to deal with it, but it's probably not – but she seems all the more determined to survive the day.

She grits her teeth and says very, very quietly: "Well, then, little Eleven, it's just you and me."

* * *

**Review review review! (Please.)**


	7. The Victor

I find it so fascinating to see people's opinions. If you are Hawtniss shippers, I appreciate you more. Sorry, Peeniss shippers. I'm on your side, but it takes some skill to read Katpee if you prefer Gale.

:P I'm just kidding. I appreciate you equally. Thanks for reading, whether you ship this or not.

I had so much fun writing this chapter. It's been so long since I've written something as exciting as this. I Am Strong had _none _of that, haha; the novel I'm writing now is at its slow stage, too. So it was thrilling to be back into the Games.

Also, I addressed some of the "Peeta/Katniss?" stuff, too. =p Well, not really.

**I don't own the Hunger Games**.

* * *

"_I'm very hard to catch," Rue had said in a tremulous voice. "And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out."_

The cannon signifying Danika's death alerts Rue. Her dark fingers freeze. The foraging stops, and for the briefest of moments, she stays still. The cameras zoom in on her face, on her frozen eyes, her slightly open mouth. She's forcing herself to keep her breathing controlled. I watch the unsteady rise and fall of her shoulders, her trembling lips.

Suddenly, she snaps out of her reverie and dives to her things, seizing a pack that had been left among her food.

Then, she runs.

The screen splits into two. On the left, Clove is hastily treating her wound, gritting her teeth tightly. It's at this point that I'm sure she's realizing that it's not very easy to be alone in the Games. In the second half of the screen, Rue's running determinedly in the direction of the Cornucopia. We listen to the steady drumming of her feet and her tired breathing. She must be exhausted.

Prim squeezes my hand tightly. I'm sure, with the other, she's gripping Peeta's with equal strength.

Rue arrives at the Cornucopia. She rummages among the supplies there, but she keeps her eyes open, and to the opening of the golden horn.

The Gamemakers, however, don't want to keep us waiting. The screen closes on Rue. The image of Clove expands on our television. She pauses from tending her wound, looking up as if she's heard something. Slowly, her head turns slightly. Clove's eyes widen, and her mouth opens just the slightest. "You've got to be joking," we hear her whisper.

Clove abandons the wound, straightens up, and runs away like there's no tomorrow. (Which, I realize, is probably true for either of them.) The cameras pan slowly, for dramatic effect, I think, revealing what Clove is running from: muttations. No question about it. I've never seen these mutts, but they're no natural-born animals. They resemble large wolves, but what wolf lands and then balances easily on its hind legs? What wolf waves the rest of the pack forward with its front paw as though it had a wrist? These things I can see through my television. Up close, I'm sure their more menacing attributes will be revealed.

I'm sure we'll see how horrifying they truly are when they drive Clove to Rue. These mutts, I'm almost positive, will bring the end to the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games.

Clove runs to the Cornucopia. It's a strange sight: like a shepherd being herded by his own sheep. She's led to the golden horn, where Rue hides inside. Rue readies her stance, a dagger in her hand but some other weapons behind her.

Clove, however, runs straight past Rue, to the tail of the horn. She begins to scramble, with extraordinary lack of grace, up the horn. Slowly, stunned, Rue takes a few steps out of the Cornucopia, gazing to the horizon at the humanoid wolves. The cameras stay steady next to Rue, not moving as the mutts approach.

Their _faces_! My jaw drops, and Prim's vise-grip crushes my fingers as she screams. Their claws! At _least _four inches. Definitely razor sharp. I realize shortly that they are the old tributes. The ones that had died. I stare in awe, disbelief, and a sickened feeling overwhelms me. What have they _done_? That is their eyes, I know; I recognize several of them. A shudder runs through me.

Rue screams a scream so like Prim's, and my heart breaks. I shut my eyes, letting out a shaky breath. I shy away from the screen, leaning closer into the couch. With my eyes closed, my imagination allows a short image of the little twelve year old in the Cornucopia to be another one – blonde with blue eyes – and it takes all my will to keep from screaming, too.

My eyes open just barely – enough to see Rue sprinting after Clove, with, of all things, a slingshot in her hand. I remember the knives hiding behind her in the Cornucopia, and she chooses _a slingshot_? Her pockets shake, filled with little pebbles. I am incredulous. She's seemed intelligent until now: what chance does her slingshot have against Clove and her impeccable knife-throwing?

"Come on," I hiss desperately. "Come on, come on, come on..."

Prim squeezes my hand again. Peeta's hand covers both of ours', and I feel a strange sense of comfort. "She can do this," Peeta says, as though we were watching a movie where the good guys always win.

But the problem is, that isn't true. Especially not in this game.

We watch as the mutts surround the Cornucopia, struggling to climb up. Clove and Rue stare at one another, and they know that one of them will have to die within the next ten minutes. They must know. I do. The mutts keep leaping up at the metal horn, but they can't climb it. They can, however, get about ten feet. Rue dances around their grip easily, but she can't focus on both the mutts and Clove at the same time.

Rue lightly moves up the horn, closer to Clove. Her eyes dart from one thing to another. I realize she's looking at Clove and her bloody arm. One of Rue's hand is in her pocket, probably fingering one of the little pebbles she has there. The problem is, Clove is readier. Readier with knives. And one-hundred percent accurate aim, as far as we've seen. I've never seen Rue shoot, but either way, pebbles stand nothing against Clove.

Or does it? After all...

My eyes wander to Clove's injured arm. She's ambidextrous, at least when it comes to the knives. She'll be hindered just a little bit, I'm sure.

"She can do this," Peeta whispers, squeezing Prim's and my hand.

"DO IT!" Prim shrieks at the television. She leans away from Peeta a bit, more toward the screen. Desperate. "Knock her off the horn! Come _on_!"

I grit my teeth. "Come on," I echo.

Rue dodges the knife that Clove throws, but it costs her.

The cameras zoom in on a mutt: it leans back on its hind legs, bending, pushing up into the air, to Rue – its power is highlighted, showing how the mutt jumps several feet. Rue's foot slips, right above the mutt's muzzle – the mutt opens its jaw, revealing rows of foreboding fangs, ready to snatch her foot –

Rue leaps back up, going closer to Clove. It's almost funny to see the size difference. Clove isn't really huge, but in comparison to little Rue, she's definitely big. Rue shoots and gets Clove somewhere near her eyes. Clove grits her teeth, hardly bothered. Her arm whips around, and the knife somersaults in the air in Rue's direction. It's closer this time, practically cutting off a strand of Rue's hair.

Jaw tightening determinedly, the scrawny District Eleven tribute takes aim.

The pebble gets her shoulder. Then, her wound. Clove lets out a pained cry, clearly seething, now. She chucks the knife with blind ferocity, it spinning wildly out of aim and missing. I know what's happening, now; I've seen it happen with so many other tributes – it was just happening to Cato as he died. Clove's gone crazy. I probably would, if I were her, too. The idea of struggling against a tribute like Rue is a bit of an esteem-stomp.

Rue shoots at her, getting her in the eye. As Clove's hand shoots up to protect herself, Rue takes her chance. One of Clove's arms is injured, and the other is protecting her eye. Rue launches at Clove, knocking her off the Cornucopia.

But.

In a fast moment, Clove's hand comes down from her head, seizing a knife. As she falls, the knife stabs somewhere near Rue's ribs.

Rue's eyes widen, and she gags.

Clove falls to the mutts with the smug little smile still on her face.

"Die, die, die!" Rue gasps through her sobs, as if begging the mutts to kill Clove – she probably was. It is a now a question of who dies first. Whoever lasts that extra few seconds will have enough time to be healed by the Capitol. Rue clenches her eyes shut, face contorting in absolute pain.

The cameras pan over the Cornucopia from above, as if from a hovercraft. The mutts can faintly be seen. A small splotch of dark is on top of the golden horn – Rue. For a suspense-holding handful of seconds, there is silence.

The cannon sounds, followed shortly by the trumpets of victory, as the hovercraft descends on the body. A body that was once the home of a strong, determined girl with a flawless throw when it came to her knives, now the feast of what once was her competitors.

Rue, the little tribute from District Eleven, has just won the Hunger Games.

…

We do not erupt in cheers. Prim sags against Peeta. "Oh," she breathes in disbelief, eyes closing. I lean against Peeta, too, despite what I may be thinking.

"It's over," I whisper.

Peeta puts an arm around my shoulder and gives me a hug. "We survived another year, Everdeen girls. How does it feel?"

Prim doesn't reply. She still seems shocked, as if she were the one to have just survived the Hunger Games. I purse my lips, unsure. I imagine Gale's face. Clove's face. Rue's. "Empty," I admit.

He gives me a sidelong glance. After a pause, he nods. "I agree."

_Nothing_. There was barely satisfaction. I had begged and hoped and wished for little Rue to win, trying to believe with all my heart that she would survive. When she did, though... I still felt sick. I felt like I had eaten something inedible, like I was trying to be happy at a funeral. I didn't feel _right_. There was a wrong feeling bubbling in me, and despite the small beat of happiness in my heart, I felt like there was a mistake. Something had happened that shouldn't have happened.

Peeta exhales deeply. "I should get going."

Prim turns to him, apparently disappointed.

"It's getting late," he says with a smile, kissing her forehead. "I'll be back tomorrow, if you like."

"Of course," says Prim, hugging him tightly. "Thanks for being here, Peeta."

"I'm glad I could watch it with you," says Peeta, his 'you' meaning not just Prim, I think.

When Peeta sets Prim lightly on the couch, I stand up with him. "Um, can I walk with you?" I want to walk with him just partway. I want to be around him and his calm. There's just something about him that reassures me.

"I would never deny that offer." He smiles. He waves at my mother. "Thanks for having me, Mrs. Everdeen."

"It was a pleasure, Peeta." She smiles back, a bit weakly. "We'll see you tomorrow."

Peeta studies my expression as we take the walk back into town. "You seem..."

I shrug before he finishes his sentence. "I don't know. I guess I'm just not as blissfully happy as I thought I'd be when she won, you know? I mean, I wanted the impossible – for her to win – I got it. You'd expect that things would be a bit better."

"Because winning or losing isn't really the problem of the Games," he reminds me. "Do you remember what I said to you the first time we watched the Games together?"

I frown. "Uh, no."

"You're not happy, Kat, because the Capitol still wins," says Peeta patiently. "Imagine Rue's life, now. She'll relive the Games every year. She'll have to remember that Clove and Danika died at her hands. Two lives were _ended _before they had to because of her. The Capitol did that. Do you see what I mean?"

And, now, I do. "It's like we never win."

"It's not 'like' we never win. We don't."

I give Peeta a surprised look. I guess I'd always subconsciously believed that town kids were happy with their life. _They ought to be grateful_, Gale and I had always thought. _Their life isn't like ours_. The fact is, their lives are. They are just as trapped as kids in the Seam. They're just trapped in a different way.

I laugh hollowly. It's not just the town kids. It's all the Districts: from One to Twelve, between well-off families and those hardly knowing if they'll survive the day. From the victors with millions in their pockets to the kids who narrowly missed their deaths. We are all trapped in this infinite circle of hunger. Hungry for everything. Food. Safety. Freedom.

Then, sardonically, I mutter, "Congratulations to Rue of District Eleven, the 'victor' of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games."

* * *

My Katniss is so mature, no?

**Review, please! (I'm getting so many "story alert" and "favorite story" emails. Come on, people, give me some reviews, too! ;D)**


	8. Oh, Johnny, Oh, Johnny, Oh

Agh. I keep starting chapters _meaning _to put in some more Peeta/Katniss fluff (I know you want it, guys; I'm sorry), but I just end up going in the wrong direction. Sorry! It's coming soon, I promise.

;) Yeah, I know, speedy update. I was busy this weekend, I suppose. It's strange. I can't believe I did this every day for a month.

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

Boys make life difficult.

Don't I sound so average, when I say that?

Usually, I like to believe that I'm not like those other girls – and I truly believe I'm not. I mean, I look at the tables of town girls in the cafeteria, as they look at boys like Peeta and his brothers... gossiping and giggling and being just... empty-minded – and I know I would never do that. I would never obsess over a boy like that. As is known, I've vowed to be single for life.

However, my gym class kind of makes it hard to. This week, my class, the class a year older than me, and the class a year older than _them –_ so it includes Gale – are being forced together. I want to give you three guesses as to what we're doing.

Do you have it?

Any guesses?

How close do you think you are?

Peeta, seeing me fret, looks amused. "Katniss Everdeen, the Great Hunter, is afraid of holding a boy's hand?"

I sigh. "I guess it wouldn't be that big of a deal, but Gale's going to be there, and..." I hit my fist against the table roughly. "Ugh. Why did he have to make things so difficult?"

"You can always dance with Peeta," Madge points out.

I look at Peeta and his indifferent expression. To Madge, I say, "Oh, I know, but it's circle dancing. That means we have to dance with everyone."

"Is it?" Madge sighs. "Oh. I guess that's better..."

"For you," I say grimly. "That means, at one point or another, I'll be dancing with him again."

"That's a good thing," says Peeta, who's been adamant about making amends with him. I think it's primarily because he feels guilty.

I wrinkle my nose. "And I'll have to dance with Tom, too."

Peeta bursts out laughing. "Scared of my brother, Kat?"

I roll my eyes. "Sure. Tell him that. He'd be happy."

In the past week – since Rue's victory – I've spent a lot of time at the Mellark's house (when his mother's out). I do like his family. Tom is the exuberant one; I can count on him for a laugh, which is strange. I don't know a lot of people who can make me laugh like Tom does. Eddy is "strong and silent". I can tell that he is the most disconnected from his family; he's out of his family's loop, I think, but part of me believes that he does care for them – like me. So I like him. As for Mr. Mellark, he's happier when he's around his sons and not his wife. I wonder why he married her.

Anyway, Tom is this joker who loves teasing me, "Peeta's new girlfriend"; he's convinced that my lack of conversational skills is simply "shyness", blah blah blah. I do like him, though, which Peeta doesn't believe. ("There's no way you like Tom. I don't believe you. He's annoying.")

"It'll be over before you know it," Madge says encouragingly.

I smile ruefully. It's a _week _of seventy-five minutes every day, dancing. Probably, at least, two very long minutes with Gale. I don't think it'll be over before I know it. Peeta gives me a smile, equally comforting as Madge's.

Well, those two minutes with him might just make up for it.

…

As I walk into the gym with Peeta and Madge later, Peeta hums something like a death march. I laugh. He says dramatically to Madge, "We're here with Katniss Everdeen, the Great Hunter, walking into her supposed death. How does it feel, Katniss?"

I smile. "Not too bad, I guess." I'm glad he's trying to make me less worried.

Madge giggles and slings her arm around my shoulder. "We're here for you!"

Peeta nods. "Even if it _is _just dancing."

"Come on, children, no dawdling," says Mr. Foxworth, one of the gym teachers helping out with the dancing. (Along with him is Ms. Marks and Ms. Grayson, both stiff and gray-haired.) He ushers Peeta, Madge, and me into the gym.

My eyes search automatically for Gale. Not everyone is there yet, so it's not too hard to find him. I find myself staring. I miss him. Then, my heart beats double-time, my face flushes, my eyes pop open, and my jaw drops slightly. He is talking. Enthusiastically.

To a girl.

"_You can _enjoy _life. I mean, Gale does. Why shouldn't you?" Prim had said._

"_Gale...? How do you mean?"_

_Prim realized she'd said too much and continues on hastily._

I grit my teeth. Peeta, naturally, notices what I'm looking at. He puts a tentative hand on my shoulder. "Kat? Are you okay?"

His familiar, calm voice soothes me. For a long while, now, Peeta's been this source of comfort. He's a refreshing personality, with none of Gale's fire but not exactly personality-less, either. He calms me down. This moment is no exception. "I'm fine."

"You ready?" he asks, as Ms. Marks arranges the class in a circle. Peeta offers his arm, giving me another one of those gentle smiles.

I put my arm through his and take a deep breath. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Hey, little brother, little sister," Tom greets, coming up to us with his girlfriend. He eyes me. "Is Miss 'niss having a breakdown?"

I scowl.

"I guess yes," Tom says. He is one of those people that doesn't back away several steps when I look disagreeable. It's a new sort of thing to be around. Kind of weird. He gives me a Peeta-like smile. I'm kind of taken aback. "Relax, little sister."

Wait. Did he say _l__ittle sister_? I shoot Peeta a curious look, but he just shrugs.

"Okay, everybody, in dance position!" yells Ms. Marks. "Ms. Grayson and Mr. Foxworth will demonstrate for us -"

Tom grins over his shoulder at Peeta, who snickers. As the two teachers get into dance position – Mr. Foxworth's hand on Ms. Grayson's waist, that whole thing – the Mellark brothers fox whistle.

Half the class giggles. I find myself smiling.

"Boys," says Ms. Marks over the microphone sternly.

Peeta smiles bashfully, but Tom just calls out, "'sup, Ms. Marksy?"

Ms. Marks glares, but Tom looks innocent. Peeta smiles down at me. "I don't know _how _you tolerate him. He is so annoying."

"Ah, I don't live with him," I conclude.

Peeta laughs a little. "Makes sense." Then, he turns a bit pink and tucks his chin closer to his chest slightly. "Erm, Gale's staring."

"Is he with that girl again?" I ask.

"The one he was talking to at the start of class?" he asks. "Yeah."

I grit my teeth. I can live through this.

My thoughts just descend, though, as I go around the circle. Tom does his best to keep me smiling, but once I move on to the next boy – a stranger from the Seam – my mood has plummeted once more. More than once I see Peeta looking over to me, trying to make me smile again, but his attempts aren't good enough, especially as I draw closer to Gale.

_All join hands and you circle the ring.  
__Stop where you are, give your honey a swing.  
__And now you swing that little gal behind you..._

Gale. He reaches to me, pointedly avoiding my eyes. My throat constricts as we turn together. As he lets go of me, there's none of the relief I'm expecting. Instead, I find that he's looking at me, now, as I return to the other boy.

_And leave her alone, go back and swing your own.  
__Allemande left with the corner girl._

His hands. I've never held them like this, of course, but being around him is enough. I feel those familiar calluses – familiar because they are on my own hands – and the rough, hardened feeling of his skin. I want to keep holding on. I wonder if my grip is too tight. I wonder if he's getting nervous. I wonder what he's thinking.

_You do-si-do your own!  
__Now you all promenade  
__and go walking with that maid, singing  
_"_Oh, Johnny, oh, Johnny, oh!"_

And with two more swings, one last do-si-do, I leave my best friend, walking with another, singing, "oh, Johnny, oh, Johnny, oh."

…

"Kat! Katniss! Prim!"

Prim turns around. "Hi, Peeta!" She waves.

Peeta catches up to us. "Want to stay by my place just for a bit?"

"Oh..." Prim frowns. "I have homework. But Katniss, you go."

"Actually," Peeta says, "I think you should come, too, Prim. It might... well, i just think you should come."

I raise a brow. "Why?" It's never usually mandatory for both of us to go to Peeta's house together. If I can't make it, Prim goes by herself; if Prim can't make it, I go by myself.

Peeta clears his throat. "Promise me you won't be mad?"

"Er," I say hesitantly. I shrug. "I promise."

"I want my mother to meet you."

And surprisingly, I'm not mad. The idea of it used to be ridiculous to me – but now, I'm just baffled. "But... why? And she hates me. Us. Your mother hates _us_."

"She's my mother, and you're important to me," says Peeta earnestly. "I want her to know you."

And then – oh, no – I become nervous. I suddenly look down to Prim, a bit hopeful. "Come with us. I'll help you with your homework when we get home."

Prim hugs her notebooks to her chest. "I really... well, Katniss, you can do this by yourself."

What?

_What?_

What's going on with the world?

I raise a brow. "You don't want to come?"

"I think this is something you should do by yourself," she says sincerely. Then her eyes flicker to Peeta, and she chirps, "And Peeta and Tom and Eddy and Mr. Mellark can protect you!"

Peeta chuckles. I smile and say, "I guess."

She pokes me. "Go ahead. I'll be at home."

"Okay," I mumble.

As I turn around and walk with Peeta to his house, he apprehends me with a wary look. "I feel like I don't know you, Kat! And I know that's not saying anything, since we've only been friends for a while, but you seem so... reluctant about everything, now. And then everyone believes that you're this brave hunter girl."

I smile a little. "Maybe it's your influence."

"Ah, well." Peeta smiles back. "Anything to make you smile."

I ignore the heat on my cheeks.

A huge breath escapes me when we come to the bakery. I gulp, drumming my fingers on the back of my notebook. Peeta puts a hand on my arm. "Relax."

"But..." I whisper, looking apprehensively to the bakery window.

"My dad and both my brothers are home," he reminds me. "They love you."

As to why, though, I'm not sure, so I'm not sure if they'll be able to give Mrs. Mellark reason as to why they like me. Peeta peeks through the bakery. "Ma?"

"Peeta, why did you take so long?" says Mrs. Mellark impatiently. I can hear her from outside. "Some of the cakes need frosting, and -"

"Ma," Peeta interrupts, "I want you to meet a friend of mine."

Mrs. Mellark hesitates. "What?"

"A friend of mine," interrupts Peeta. "I want you to meet her."

"A girlfriend?"

Peeta shakes his head. "No."

I can hear Tom from inside. "Is that my little sister outside? Come say hello, Miss 'niss." I peek inside, at Tom's grinning face. Mrs. Mellark's face morphs from confusion to absolute horror. I flush.

"A _Seam _girl?" she hisses. "Peeta Mellark, what are you _thinking_?"

Ouch. It's harder to hear it.

"Ma," says Tom reproachfully. Eddy pokes his head into the store.

"Hey, Katniss," says Eddy.

"Hi," I greet, more timidly than I've ever felt. Possibly because I've never talked to anyone, so I don't really have reason to feel timid.

"You've known that they've been friends?" asks Mrs. Mellark, turning to Eddy in awe.

I hate how she talks about me like I'm not here.

Tom knits his eyebrows. "Yes, I thought we established that, Ma. Katniss here is the little sister I never had." He beams at me.

I smile.

"Oh, don't you give me that smug little smirk," hisses Mrs. Mellark, talking to me for the first time. I feel like she'd rather be talking to a pig. I've never felt so hated. "I know what you're doing, girl."

"Doing what?" asks Peeta coolly. "What is Katniss doing, Ma?"

"A girl like her isn't going to be friends with you just because you're a nice boy, Peeta," says Mrs. Mellark roughly. Her husband walks in just then, looking wary. "She wouldn't care if you had green hair and an extra toe, son."

I chew on the inside of my cheek. I know what she's implying.

"What are you talking about?" Eddy asks, frowning.

"How many times have you fed this girl, Peeta?" asks Mrs. Mellark, crossing her arms. "How many times has she been over? How many times has she had food off our table?"

Peeta's mouth opens and closes with the incredulous look still plastered on his face. "I can't believe you would – that's – and she's right _here _-"

"Tanya..." says Mr. Mellark quietly, "that's out of line."

"Out of line!" cries Mrs. Mellark. "Let me guess. You knew about this, too? You've been feeding _pigs _behind my back?"

I put my notebooks down on the side table next to me and grit my teeth. Peeta turns to me, and judging by that little half-smile on his face, he knows what's coming. I give his mother a good look, meeting her eyes determinedly.

"I'm sorry, but that's all I can take," I say, clenching my fists. "Mrs. Mellark, I am friends with your son... your _sons_, and your husband, not because they feed me, because they don't. Not often enough to make it a good enough reason for me to stay. I never – never, in the years I've known Peeta, did I desire to be his friend. I became friends with him because my little sister wanted me to give him a chance. _Not _because he makes the best cakes – and yes, I do know that for myself. Deal with it. I'm not friends with him because he's..." I hesitate. "Not because he's handsome or desirable. I'm friends with him because he's a nice guy, and he's been a friend to me when I needed one. He welcomed me, this Seam 'pig', into his privileged town life, whether you like it or not."

Mrs. Mellark looks stunned. Eddy looks surprised. Mr. Mellark has a small, un-Mr. Mellark-like smile on his face. Tom is smirking. (I can already hear his proud, "Way to go, little sister.")

Peeta looks pleased.

"You've just crossed the line, girl," she says coldly. "I don't tolerate rudeness in my house, from anyone."

"Yeah?" I ask, crossing my arms and standing my ground. "Lead by example, then."

Her eyes widen. "I beg your pardon?"

"You just called me a pig," I remind her.

Mrs. Mellark leans back, crossing her arms. "Peeta, I forbid you to talk to this girl." The typical unfair parent ultimatum. I've never experienced it, but I'm aware of it.

"What, because she won against you in an argument?" he asks, frowning. "_That girl _is one of my best friends, Ma, and there's nothing you can do about it." Peeta sidesteps toward me.

I look between him and his firm stance, his tense expression, and his mother, equally firm and tense. Only I know she holds more power in this household. Tom bites his lip, looking dismal. Eddy meets my eyes, then closes his and exhales quietly. Mr. Mellark stares at his shoes.

I shake my head and sigh. I take my notebooks. "No, I can't take it in here. I'm sorry. I'll see you in school tomorrow, Peeta."

"No, Kat -" he whispers as I push past him and out the door.

"I'm sorry," I say, even though he and I both know I have nothing to be sorry for.

As I leave, I hear him murmur sadly, "Katniss..."

* * *

**_Review, please! :)_**

Update coming soon, as per usual.


	9. Mother

Whoo! We broke one thousand hits for the first time since... November? Fist pump! xD Thanks, guys! :) Also, thank you for the 100+ reviews; I forgot to bring that up.

Oh, guys, please don't expect daily updates haha. There's no way I can keep this up. (Then again, I said that about I Am Strong, and I hadn't missed a day in more than a month, but... well... WE'LL SEE.)

Those hardcore I Am Strong fans will recognize this song. :)

Vincent is so named because I was listening to "Starry, Starry, Night" while writing this.

**I don't own the Hunger Games, nor do I own the song in this fic.

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**

I have nightmares about it.

_Pig._

I do know that I'm not generally liked, but never have I felt like that. All my life, it's never been flat-out disgusted. Not from anyone. Not to my face like that.

_Seam._

I'm aware of my family's situation. I know we aren't ever going to be eating feasts, and I learned to accept that a long time ago.

_Brat._

But it isn't my fault.

_Katniss._

I wake up, breathing heavily. Prim snores on sleepily beside me, and I'm thankful. I don't want her to see me like this. I gulp, wanting to go to sleep, but I can't. I ease the blankets off me, but once I'm off the bed, I move lightning fast. I bolt out the door, hit with a splash of cool air and a strong wind.

It's hardly dusk; I can see the sun peeking over the trees opposite the Meadow. I'm wearing thin sleepwear, making me feel like I'm in a cooler, but I don't mind. I was sweating under the covers. From that nightmare. It wasn't even that scary, now that I think about it. It was just Mrs. Mellark and her words – but I find that now, although I'm no longer afraid, I don't feel right.

My eyes sting. I can't believe I'm about to cry.

"Katniss?"

Peeta _must _be influencing me, because I have been pushing my mother away for years. Now, though, after being treated so rudely by someone else's mother, I want nothing more than my own to do the opposite.

"What's wrong?"

I shut my eyes tightly, and do something I haven't done in the longest time. I spin around and meet my mother's eyes, begging for a hug. She's my mother. She doesn't need words.

Mother closes the space between us swiftly, sparing any pitying looks. The second she hugs me, and I hug back, the tears come. Through my sniffles, I choke, "I went to Peeta's house. He wanted to introduce me to his mom."

"It didn't go well?" asks Mother sadly, still holding me tightly, as if afraid I'll suddenly change my mind and pull away. I don't want to. I'm scared she'll be the one to draw back.

I swallow. It's hard to.

"She called me a pig. She accused me of stealing food off their table and taking advantage of Peeta. I... I stood up to her, Mother. I did. But..."

"You have reason to feel this way, Katniss, sweetheart," she murmurs gently, wiping my tears. "Don't be ashamed of crying, okay? You aren't weak."

I nod, biting my lip. "She told Peeta to never talk to me again, though."

Mother smiles. She looks amused. "Katniss, that boy will go through the flames for you. Forget his mother."

I don't believe her, but that's not the point. I smile. "Thanks."

"Go to sleep, okay?" she says gently. "The nightmares won't come back."

"Okay," I mumble, sleepily again.

As I fall asleep, she strokes my hair, humming softly beneath her breath. It's not my father's voice – it's not the voice I grew up with, the one that made even the birds stop to listen – but it's what I have.

You know, I don't think I knew, all those years I pushed this woman away, exactly what I was missing out on.

...

During lunch today, Peeta told me that his mother got him out of school early. He had mocked his mother, explaining that she would do "anything to keep you walking home with that Seam girl." He promised he'd find a way, though, which encourages me.

When I walk out the school with Prim, though, I do find someone there that I wasn't expecting.

Mother looks less... scraggly. She looks like someone from the town, which is something she hasn't been in a decade or two. "Mother?" asks Prim, raising her eyebrows. "What are you doing here?"

She clears her throat. "I thought I'd go into town today, and I'd like you two to come."

_She wants to go into town?_

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. "What's going on?"

Apparently guessing that I don't want to be lied to, Mother says – like it's the most normal thing in the world, "I'm going to see an old friend of mine in town. Tanya Mellark."

My eyes pop out. "What?"

"Oh, yes." She smiles. Diabolically.

My motherjust smiled diabolically. She doesn't smile diabolically!

"I don't know if you knew," she says conspiratorially, already walking with Prim toward town, "but her husband used to have a thing for me. But, of course, I married your father..."

I have never seen her like this. Never.

Well, at least, not since Father died, but this is out of this world. I grit my teeth as I walk behind them, not sure what my mother plans on doing. She's not one for... confrontation. Although I'm not sure – this might not end up being a confrontation. I have no idea what she's planning. I don't know. Is it confrontation?

The bakery door scares me.

I don't remember being afraid of visiting Peeta.

Is this what making friends does to a person? Is this what real, raw, emotions feel like? I think Gale and I might have had the right idea with being more of recluses.

As if sensing fear, Prim looks over to me and then takes my hand. "Don't be frightened, Katniss."

I smile tightly. "I'm not."

Prim smiles back, amused because she knows I'm lying.

I look up and hear a familiar tune. Tom likes to whistle one of those few songs that Peeta can play on the harmonica; I know it because Prim knows it, too. "Tom-pouce," I say with a smile."Hi."

"Miss 'niss!" he greets enthusiastically, putting down the bag of flour that he'd been carrying. "And lil' Primmy and Mrs. Everdeen! Hey!"

"Hello, Tom," greets Prim happily.

Tom smiles at my little sister, then turns his eyes to me. "How are you, little sister?"

I manage to pull off a nonchalant shrug. "Been better."

"Okay," he says, nodding but still watching me. "You going to come inside?"

I look to Mother, who nods. "Yes. I'd like to talk to an old friend of mine. Your mother, actually."

Tom grins. "Excellent." He lugs the flour inside. "Ma? We have visitors."

Peeta is in the kitchen with his mother, looking withdrawn. He looks up, sees us, and smiles. "Hey!" he says. I feel like his birthday might have come early, judging by the look on his face. Prim giggles and puts her stuff aside, leaping into his arms. I smile.

"Marisse? Is that you?" says Mrs. Mellark, awed.

"Tanya," says Mother warmly. "It's been so long."

"No kidding!" Mrs. Mellark let out a short, sharp laugh. "How _are _you?"

Mother frowns. "Well, Tanya, things go well until I realize you've been a bit of a bully to my daughter."

"Your daughter?" says Mrs. Mellark, turning to me, as if she hasn't realized that _I _was her daughter. Then, of course, I realize that she never knew what my last name was. "But she looks nothing like -"

"She looks like my husband," cuts in Mother sharply. "But that's nothing to do with it, is it? She's my daughter, and nobody is allowed to talk to her in the way you spoke to her yesterday. Not without her consent."

"Now, Marisse," says Mrs. Mellark coldly, "clearly, things have changed since we were girls -"

"If I recall correctly, you were just as cruel then," says Mother.

Mrs. Mellark is astounded. "Marisse!"

Mother smiles humorlessly. "Howis Erich, Tanya? Well, I hope?"

And, for some reason, Peeta's "ma" looks threatened. "He's doing well."

"Where is he? I'd love to see him again." It's almost funny to hear Mother's tone so icy like that. There's rarely been so much life in her these past few years.

That's when I realize why Tanya Mellark is threatened. I remember the story Peeta told me. His father used to like my mother. Clearly, Mrs. Mellark knew.

Mrs. Mellark leans the broom she had been using against the counter. "I haven't seen you in years, my friend, but clearly, a lot can happen in that time."

"I'm not here to renew our friendship – which, I might add, I never really cared about, and still don't," says Mother, back straight and looking right at Mrs. Mellark. She is calm, now; she is the same collected, quiet Mother that I know. "I'm here to tell you that my daughter is friends with your son, and you ought to deal with it. You also ought to remember that Katniss – and Prim – are the living embodiments of your success. So be grateful for them."

"I'm sorry, _what_?" says Mrs. Mellark, clearly fuming.

Mother takes a step closer to Mrs. Mellark. "Katniss is the result of Vincent and me, in case you've forgotten. _Vincent _is the reason you are married to Erich right now, because if it hadn't been for Vincent I'm pretty sure I would have been married to your husband."

"That's your loss -"

"And your gain, so clearly, you owe me," snaps Mother. "Katniss didn't choose the life she was born in. Accept her as your son did."

"Ma, if you don't mind," says Tom, "I'll take Peeta's shift."

Mrs. Mellark scowls. "Why?"

"So he can hang with Miss 'niss, obviously. He's taking mine tomorrow. I have a date," says Tom.

Tom! Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom! He is the_ best_ big brother I've ever had.

Before his mother can say anything, Peeta sprints out the door. On the way, he takes my wrist, hauling me out with him. He grins at my mother when the door closes behind us. "Thanks, Mrs. Everdeen."

"My pleasure," says Mother with that timid smile. She's back to normal – but then, she turns to me and smiles. "Nobody messes with Everdeen girls."

I smile back, for what feels like the first time in a while. At least, the first time in a while that's directed at my mother. "Definitely."

...

"Kat," says Peeta, sitting with me in the Meadow, "have I ever told you how awesome your Mother is? And how it might possibly be genetic?"

A music-player sits on the ground, playing a collection of songs that Tom and his girlfriend made up. It's not my type – I'm more of the traditional music kind of person – but it's okay.

I laugh, making Peeta beam proudly. Then, my smile softens. I look down at the weeds at my ankles and say, "You know, I think you're definitely doing something to me, Peeta. And the people I – I care about. I've never seen Prim happy that way, or my mother so strong and..." I laugh lightly. "Outspoken. And, yesterday, after I left..." I pause, unsure if I want to tell him.

"What happened?" he asks.

"I cried," I admit.

Peeta presses his lips together, smiling sadly. "That's not the effect I wanted to give."

I look back down at my feet. "But I don't know. It might be a good thing. You're thawing me."

He bursts out laughing. "That's the thing, though; I don't believe you really were cold. The opposite, actually. It's just a matter of convincing everyone – including you, Kat – that I'm thinking the right way." Then he gazes at me unblinkingly, making my face turn red. "And a matter of making you smile."

The song that's playing – a song that's clearly pop – gets to the chorus. The drums bash. The piano and the singer's voice escalates, getting louder.

_You make me smile like the sun,  
__Fall out of bed,  
__Sing like a bird,  
__Dizzy in my head,  
__Spin like a record,  
__Crazy on a Sunday night..._

Peeta grins at me and stands up. I look at him suspiciously. He looks far too happy to be innocent. Closing the space between us swiftly, Peeta takes my hands, blue eyes shining mischievously. "Come on."

"Oh, no," I say, shaking my head. "I can_not_-"

"What are you worried about? It's just us," he insists, grinning widely. Teasingly, Peeta adds, "I'm _thawing _you."

I laugh, letting Peeta pull me up.

Then, by some miracle, he gets me to dance.

_You make me dance like a fool,  
__Forget how to breathe,  
__Shine like gold,  
__Buzz like a bee  
__Just the thought of you can drive me wild..._

_Oh, you make me smile._

"That's it..." he says playfully, spinning me around. "See? Dancing isn't _so _bad."

"Dancing itself isn't bad," I reply, rolling my eyes, "but _my _dancing is horrible."

Peeta pulls on a reluctant face. "Well, I wouldn't call it _horrible_."

I shake my head, bumping my fist on his arm. "That's rude, Peeta Mellark."

"It's genetic." Peeta grins.

_Even when you're gone,  
__Somehow you come along,  
__Just like a flower poking through the sidewalk crack  
__And just like that  
__You steal away the rain  
__And just like that_

_You make me smile like the sun,  
__Fall out of bed  
__Sing like a bird  
__Dizzy in my head  
__Spin like a record  
__Crazy on a Sunday night_

_You make me dance like a fool  
__Forget how to breathe  
__Shine like gold  
__Buzz like a bee  
__Just the thought of you can drive me wild_

_Oh, you make me smile_

_Don't know how I lived without you  
_'_Cause every time that I get around you  
__I see the best of me inside your eyes_

_You make me smile_

"Oh," says Peeta suddenly, and the music plays on, but we slow down. He's looking beyond my shoulder. I turn around.

Well, naturally, he'd turn up now.

"Mind if I cut in?"

Gale smiles, a bit embarrassed. I turn around from Peeta. Yes, it's definitely him. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks rightfully awkward. He's coming to me. For some reason, I had expected it to be me to go groveling. Beg for his friendship. Burst into tears. "I missed you." I don't know. For some reason, this is unexpected.

"I'm just kidding," he murmurs.

"I know," I reply.

This is just... horrible.

"Would you like me to leave?" Peeta says gently.

"No," I reply. I need him with me. I need him to neutralize me. Unsurprisingly, Gale doesn't look happy with that arrangement, but I wasn't happy with the arrangement involving our separation, so he should deal with it.

The song ends. Peeta turns off the CD player.

Gale gazes on at me.

_You can't do anything about him fighting for you. Why _convince _him to fight for you when you can fight for _him _yourself? If you truly cared for him, then you'd have made a better effort to keep him as a friend_, Peeta had said then.

I imagine what he could say, at this moment: _Now's your chance, Kat. Take it._

"I'm sorry," I say smoothly.

Startled that I am speaking, Gale blinks at me, confused. "What? Sorry for what?"

I take a breath. "For not fighting for you. I – Gale, I do love you. I miss your friendship and hunting without you just isn't the same. I miss you." Old Katniss never would have said any of these things to anyone. Not even Gale. But I'm not Old Katniss anymore. Peeta has changed me.

I can see him chew on the inside of his cheek. With his brows furrowed, he says, "I'm sorry, too." Then he looks up. "And not just to you, Catnip. To you, too, Peeta. I was unfair to you."

Peeta shrugs. "You had reason to be angry."

"No, I didn't." Gale looks like he's having just as hard a time as me talking about feelings and emotions and all that stuff. "I... I hope you – both of you – can find it in you to forgive me. I know I wasn't acting very... maturely."

Peeta smoothly walks past me, walking to Gale and holding out his hand. It's easy for Peeta to do. I'm a bit envious, actually.

Gale studies Peeta's offer, looking at me. Gale shakes Peeta's hand, and I know why. He knows that if he wants me back as a friend, the first thing he has to do is accept Peeta.

Smiling, Peeta says, "I hope you're here to stay this time, Gale." _He _is unafraid to talk. Mr. People-Person. "You're one of a kind, you know. It's not easy to find friends like you."

"Oh." Gale looks surprised. "Well, thanks."

When everything is silent again, I step closer to Gale. His arms move just slightly, as if he had half a mind to offer a hug.

"Not yet," I say lightly. "It doesn't matter how long we've known each other, Gale. You can't just get my friendship back like that. I forgive you. But you have to earn back what we had, whatever it was."

Then, briskly, I walk past them.

"Cheese bread, boys? Prim made some," I say in a no-nonsense kind of way.

The last thing I see is Peeta clapping a hand on Gale's shoulder before going to get the music-player. He says, quietly so he probably thinks I can't hear, "She'll come around."

I smile.

We'll see, Peeta. We'll see.

* * *

**_Review!_**


	10. A Visit From the Victor

So, I'll come right out and say it. My ideal little relationship-tree for the Hunger Games is exactly what I'm leading up to: Peeta and Katniss together (romantically), Gale slightly bitter but nonetheless happy with his life, the two boys close (because I do believe that if they never had Katniss, they'd be quite close; at least, I want to believe that). Oh, and that whole Prim-and-Peeta thing. :D

The Latin name of the "common Rue" is _Ruta graveolens_, hence Rue's last name.

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

It isn't hard to get used to Gale again. On the first day back hunting, itstarts out rather stiffly, but we just swing back into the usual program. In fact, it's almost like nothing ever happened. The next couple of months ease me closer to him, without sacrificing Peeta. Actually, there's no trouble about letting go of Peeta. Somehow – don't ask me how; I'm still dumbfounded, myself – they end up being real friends. Gale gives him a better chance than he did last time. They don't need me. In fact, they have a boys night with Peeta's brothers every other weekend.

Don't worry. I don't feel left out.

Well, not too much.

"No Peeta or Gale today, Katniss?" Mother asks me, watching as I doodle absently. It's some lazy day in that awkward shift between winter and spring; I found one of those seed-head dandelions in the Meadow today, which excites me. I can't wait until the bright yellow flowers turn up. Last year feels like forever ago.

I shrug. "Well -" Then, I look up at the door. Someone has knocked. I smile, seeing Peeta peeking through the windows. "Speak of the devil."

"Gale and your sister are at my house," says Peeta brightly. "So you should come."

"How did Prim end up there?" I ask, already getting a sweater on.

Peeta laughs. "Gale was coming over to my place – he and Tom reportedly have some 'unfinished business' to take care of -"

"Gale's sore that he lost?" I guess.

He smiles. "Gale will be insulted to hear about your lack of confidence in his wrestling abilities, but yeah. Anyway, he came across Prim when she was coming home and told her to come. Then he sent me to get you."

I turn back to the kitchen. "I'll be back before -"

Mother smiles. "Don't worry about it. Have fun."

I think she's just happy that I have a life.

As I walk to town with Peeta, I ask a little suspiciously, "Is your mother home?"

Peeta grins. "Yeah. I think Tom plans these days to infuriate her, actually. Also, I think she might be afraid of Gale. He's more intimidating-looking than you."

"Hey!"

"What?" he says, still practically laughing at me. "You're little Miss 'niss, right?"

I roll my eyes and lunge to hit him. He leaps nimbly out of the way. "Fight like a man," I say teasingly.

Peeta winks. "You have to catch me first."

I laugh, running after him all the way to his house. Along the way, though, he ends up getting _me _once or twice. He seizes me from behind by the time we get to the bakery. "Got you!" he cries. I turn around to him resentfully, and then shove my elbow into his gut. "Oof."

"_That_," I say haughtily, "was for calling me little."

"But you are."

I narrow my eyes at him.

He just gives me a _giggle _and runs into the house. "Help!" I hear him yell. "Katniss wants to hurt me!"

As I walk in, Gale says dryly, "Then none of us can help you." He's leaning against the doorway to the back of the house as Mrs. Mellark glares at us from behind the counter. Mr. Mellark is probably baking inside. I follow Peeta and Gale into the house – Tom and Eddy are wrestling; Prim is watching with (disturbing) interest.

Peeta laughs at Gale's response. He turns around to me and gets down on his knees. "Okay. I give up. Be merciful to me, Katniss."

I smile. "Okay. I'll spare you."

He clings to my ankles. "Oh, thank you. Thank you – thank you, your Mercifulness."

Laughing, I pull my ankles out of his grip. "All right, all right!" I remember him saying, all those months ago – _Anything to make you smile_. He's still doing well on that front.

"Hey, little sister," says Tom breathlessly. (Eddy won, clearly.) "How goes you?"

"I goes well," I reply.

Tom sits up, leaning by Prim's dangling legs on the couch. "You excited to see our _victor _come to visit?"

Oh. That's right.

Rue Graveolens, tribute from District Eleven. The little girl who defied the odds is coming sometime near the end of this week for the stupid Victory Tour. The Victory Tour is placed halfway between the end of the last Hunger Games and the beginning of the next one, to keep the horror fresh and immediate – it's usually briefest here in District Twelve, where we don't matter. It's the first time in a long time that a lower-district tribute has won, though. Maybe we'll get more attention. Maybe I hope that's what will happen. It's strange, perhaps, but I want to actually _meet _this little girl. She's meant more to me than any other stranger, and I want to see her.

It's not customary for the people in the Districts to meet the victor face-to-face, but maybe I'll get lucky. I can at least cross my fingers.

"It must be hard for her," says Prim glumly. "To have to look into the faces of all those people... imagine, Bee's parents!"

My throat constricts as the conversation goes on, remembering the special relationship that our female tribute shared with the victor. I can't even begin to imagine how painful it would be.

"Kat?" asks Peeta gently, interrupting conversation. "Something wrong?"

"Nothi -" I croak. I clear my throat. "Nothing."

Peeta smiles. "Liar, liar."

"Nothing," I insist. "I'm fine." I look to Gale. I know him well enough. That expression shows that he's torn between being worried about me and irritated that Peeta was worried about me first.

There _are _those little moments when Gale still gets jealous. And I notice. And it bothers me.

Peeta frowns, but lets it go.

"I wonder if Haymitch is still as drunk as he was last year..."

...

It feels like the true first day of spring. I stand at the edge of the Meadow, the dandelions tickling my toes. Now being quite good friends with Peeta, they set off bells in my head. I've never stopped connecting the dandelions to Peeta and to my father. Now more than ever, they are all related: Peeta Mellark, the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed. I stare down at the big dandelion by my feet, wondering if I should pick it, like I had all those years ago in the school yard.

Then, a hand comes down in front of me from behind, taking the flower. Peeta. It's strange that I didn't hear him. That is one of the larger things he and Gale differ in. Peeta (normally) apparently is not aware of his footfalls, which is only strange to me because I'm so used to Gale's stealthy walk. You could sneak up on a murderer with our tread – or, well, some game, in our case.

He pulls up beside me, holding up the dandelion. He smiles. "I remember, you know."

"Remember what?" I ask, not taking the dandelion. Gently, he inserts it behind my ear.

"I remember that day after I gave you the bread," replies Peeta. "We were in the school yard, and then I saw you, and you saw me... and then you looked away. And you picked the dandelion."

I look up at him curiously. "You remember that? All those years ago?"

"You don't?"

"I was starving, though. You'd saved my life. And my family's," I say. "I don't know why you'd remember it."

Peeta's cheeks turn a light shade of pink. He shrugs. "I got a beating that day. Maybe it was important to me."

I smile. "Sure, Peeta."

He takes a step into the Meadow, and I follow him. He asks, "Are you excited to see Rue today?"

"A little." I sigh. "A little scared, too."

"Why?" Peeta raises a brow.

"Oh, I don't know. It's just... like being excited to meet someone you've admired from afar, you know?" I ask, mostly thinking out loud. "And then you finally meet them... well, I won't really be meeting her, I guess, but it's still..."

"I get what you're saying."

I wrinkle my nose. "I don't remember ever caring so much for a stranger. It's so weird."

"It's not weird, Kat," he says. "I've cared for a stranger. Well, that person was basically a stranger."

"You're normal, though." I smile. "I'm cold and heartless."

Peeta crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. "Are we really going to have this argument again, Kat?"

"I guess not." I grin.

The two of us walk in the Meadow, just talking. I recall all the times I did this with Gale, and how it was just this easy. But what he did caused a rift between us. I don't think our relationship can ever be the same. I know he still likes me that way; I can never look at him in the eye without remembering that – much like how I felt once, about Peeta.

"Hey, Katniss," he murmurs suddenly. Peeta motions to the edge of the Meadow, to the woods. I can't believe I hadn't noticed. We're close enough to notice, anyway.

Well, the person standing by the fence _is _very small. I suppose it's not too big of a deal that we couldn't see her. Peeta rushes up to her before I can say anything. I hiss, "Peeta!" He doesn't stop, though, so I'm forced to go after him.

She looks different face-to-face. More real. In my eyes, what she represents is horrifying. I didn't imagine it to be this frightening. She is so innocent-looking, though. She's dark, mostly, with thick, black hair and dark brown skin and eyes. I find her appearance to be endearing, though. She's someone who looks just approachable.

The little girl spins around, meeting our eyes. Hers widen. "Oh! Please don't tell them I'm here."

"Rue?" Peeta says. "Rue Graveolens?"

Rue sighs. "Yes, that's me."

I stare blankly.

"Peeta Mellark," says Peeta. Mr. People Person. "And this is my friend, Katniss."

"Oh," says Rue, "well, it's nice to meet you." She seems almost disinterested, as if we're not worthy. Maybe she's not as sweet and gentle as she looked on screen.

Peeta, however, isn't about to give up. "Don't tell who you're here?"

"I thought you'd..." Rue hesitates, then changes her sentence around. "My mentor, Chaff, and the escort, Lola Bagatelle – they're probably looking for me now. I didn't like it, though."

"Didn't like what?" asks Peeta.

"How they always know where I am, all the time," she mumbles. "I had more freedom even before all this stuff happened."

Sympathy from me rushes out to her. And pity. I'm ashamed to admit it. I do feel pity. For the rest of her life, she will be scrutinized and hurt and... trapped. All her life.

"So I came here," says Rue, looking wistfully out past the fence. "But then I found a fence, here, too."

"It's not on," I say. I move beside her and branch against the wire. "It's never on."

Rue looks to the woods. "So have you been there?"

I hesitate. Whatever comes out this girl's mouth can be said to the country. Anything that comes out her mouth must first come through her ears or her eyes. I can't say anything to her. I don't trust her _that _much. Anyway, she's an outsider. "No," I lie.

"So are you just going to hang around here?" Peeta asks dryly. He's changing the subject for me.

Rue is still watching me. I think she can tell that I was lying. "Just for a little while." She sits down.

I interrupt the silence that follows with a whisper. "Are you okay, Rue? How are you?"

She looks up at me, apparently surprised. "I'm not."

"We can listen, you know," I murmur gently, bending down in front of her. "I know you've gone through things that I can't even imagine. And I don't want to pretend that I know what you've gone through. But... I do want to listen."

"Katniss," she says after a very long silence, "that's a plant."

I nod. "Yeah."

"Katniss?" She pauses, watching my face. I force myself to stare into her eyes. This little girl who I've admired and dreamed of meeting. There is something about her that draws me to her. I can't put my finger on it. "You know, something tells me I'm happier than you are – despite what I've been feeling. I think I'd like to listen to _you_."

The truth is, there _are_ a lot of things troubling me, but I imagine it's nothing compared to Rue's worries. I frown, reluctant. "But -"

"I'm sick of hearing about _me_, Katniss!" she says tiredly. "After the Games, it was me, me, me, and I'm sick of it. Let me care about _you_."

I smile slightly, because for so long, that last sentence had been my line. At least, it had always felt that way.

I take a deep breath. "Well..."

* * *

_**Y'all better give me some reviews. I lost some sleep to write this! ;D (And, yes, it's short - but I'm giving you daily updates. C'mon. xD)**_


	11. If the Mockingjay Lives

To anon. **white**: I find it _so _funny that you should ask for something dramatic. I had this burst of inspiration while delivering papers yesterday. (I talk to myself while delivering papers; it's extraordinarily efficient, and it helps me to get my "writing" done when I don't actually have anything to write with.)

From this Saturday (January 22) to next Sunday (January 30) there will be daily updates. :) I'm on semester break.

For now, though, a bit of a teaser chapter.

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

I tell Rue every painful detail of my tragic life, beginning with my father and ending with Gale. I don't know why, but I trust her. I trust that fragile warrior with the wide, perceptive brown eyes and the humble background. As my story goes on – telling her about father and the mockingjays, how my family barely gets by – I can see that Rue begins to trust me, too. Her emotions are close to the surface; I may not be Peeta, but I do recognize what I see in her face. I see it all the time in my little sister.

"How are you doing?" she asks softly.

I pause. "I'm getting along."

"I'm oldest of five kids, and I wasn't part of the wealthy, back in Eleven," says Rue solemnly. "I know how it feels... but you... your father. I can't even imagine what that would feel like."

We both stop for a second, because I had said the same thing to her not too long ago. I smile a little. "Then I guess we're on even ground."

"I guess we are." Rue smiles. She hesitates. "How are you eating, Katniss? How are you and your family eating?"

I frown. I look at the trust in Rue's eyes and wonder... should I tell her? I do know that I had decided just a few seconds ago that I wouldn't, but clearly, a lot had happened in the past few seconds. "Do you remember how I told you that I've never been past this fence?" I smile a little. "I lied."

"Kat..." says Peeta hesitantly. He hasn't said much; I think this is the first time he's spoken since _I _started talking. I turn around to him, meeting his eyes. He's leaning against a tree, watching us a bit warily.

"It's okay," says Rue. "I won't tell. I understand."

"You won't tell?" Peeta asks.

Rue nods. "Of course. If I could, I would've done the same thing." She looks out past the fence and begins talking to me again. "So, you've been out there? You hunt?"

I nod, too. "Yeah."

She looks out to the woods, the look on her face flooded with melancholy. I want to know what she's thinking, but the thoughts seem too deep to interrupt. Rue sighs. "I want to tell you a story."

I settle back down into the ground. "We're listening."

…

It had been a few months after the Games. It was a bit of a low. Things were quiet – for the first time in ages – and Rue was taking advantage of it. Although she didn't like the work too much, Rue still liked being out in the fields and the orchards and just being able to be out there, in some solitary freedom. Since Rue was rather high-profile, she still had Peacekeepers around her land. The ones she found that day, though, were unlike any other.

"We're not really Peacekeepers," admitted the younger-looking one – Rue could tell; she looked much too young to be a real Peacekeeper. She was hardly out of her teens. The woman was in her mid-thirties, probably. "But we thought you, of all people, ought to know."

"Know what?" Rue asked suspiciously. "Why are you here? Who are you?"

They answered the last question first. The woman replied, "My name's Twill. And this is Bonnie. We've run away from District Eight."

"Why would you do that?" asked Rue, baffled.

"You don't know?" Bonnie whispered.

Twill hushed her. "There's been an uprising, Rue. Since you won the Games... well, you're the youngest to ever win the Games; don't you know?" The woman sighed. "People believe... if a little twelve year old girl can beat the best, then surely the Districts can beat Panem? People had always believed that, I suppose, but rumors started floating around after you won, and..."

"Where are you going? Why?" Rue asked.

"Well, for _why_ – our loved ones were killed in a factory explosion." Right. District Eight. Textiles. "We had to go somewhere... we heard that there was someplace where the rebellion burns brightly." Twill smiled a little humorlessly.

"The rebellion?" Rue repeated incredulously.

Twill nodded. Bonnie murmured, "District Thirteen."

Again, Rue bombards them with questions – what was happening in District Eight, that sort of thing – but even when their story ended, Rue had more questions. "Well, I guess I get why you're running. You have reason to. But why District Thirteen? What do you think you're going to find?"

"We're not sure, exactly," admitted Twill.

"It's nothing but rubble," Rue reminded them. "We've all seen the footage."

And we have – we've all seen the footage of the destruction that is District Thirteen. A stabbing reminder of the defeat of the Districts. Something the Capitol flaunts every now and then, particularly around Hunger Games time, naturally.

"That's just it. They've been using the same footage for as long as anyone in our District can remember," said Twill.

"Really?" Rue frowned, trying to think back to the images of Thirteen she'd seen on television.

"You know how they always show the Justice Building?" Twill continued. Rue nodded. She – and so many others – had seen it a thousand times. "If you look very carefully, you'd see it. Up in the far right-hand corner."

Rue knits her eyebrows. "See what?"

Twill pulled something out of her pocket, revealing a cracker with a mockingjay printed on it. Mockingjays are sort of a slap in the face to the Capitol, so it's understandable why they're the symbol for the supposed "rebellion". "A mockingjay," Twill said. "Just a glimpse of it as it flies by. The same one every time."

"Back home," Bonnie added, "we think they keep reusing the old footage because the Capitol can't show what's really there now."

Rue frowned. "But... if the Capitol is using the same footage over and over again, that means they _can't _go back to Thirteen, which means they know what's there. Why would the Capitol be okay with Thirteen being... alive?"

"We don't know," Twill said earnestly. "We think that the people maybe moved underground when everything on the surface was destroyed. We think they've managed to survive, and the Capitol leaves them alone because, before the Dark Days, Thirteen's principal industry was nuclear development."

"They were graphite miners," Rue said automatically. But, then – she realized that piece of information had been from the Capitol.

"A few small mines, yeah." Bonnie nodded. "But not enough to justify a population of that size. That, I guess, is the only thing we now for sure."

…

"I let them go," Rue continues, a bit wistfully, "and I hope they're happy wherever they are... but I can't stop thinking about it. It does make some sense – that there'd be a rebellion, I mean. Parts of it fit, but... it's such a chance to take. But imagine it. If a wispy kid from District Eleven, with no special training at all, can win the Hunger Games... then what can the entire _country _do against the Capitol? Imagine it!"

She sounds serious, and I'm kind of... at a loss for words.

"You want Katniss to take you," Peeta murmurs.

Rue blushes hotly. "I was just thinking."

The very idea of it is ridiculous. I could never leave Twelve. Never leave my mother to take care of Prim. How would they get by without me? Especially this year, with Gale turning eighteen and heading to the mines. It would be impossible for him to take care of his family, let alone mine as well. "I'm sorry," I whisper, "but I could never leave my family. I understand where you're going, and if I didn't have family here, I would go with you, but -"

"No," Rue says easily, "I understand."

But it's clear she's disappointed. I was her chance, and I didn't give it to her. I sigh. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," she insists. But, again, she seems tentative. Rue stands up. "I have to go – Chaff and Lola'll be soiling their pants if I'm gone for very much longer. It was nice to meet you both."

Peeta and I stand up, too, but Rue doesn't leave yet.

She frowns, and digs deep into her pockets. "If you change your mind, wear this at the celebrations tonight. I'll see you in the crowd, and then I'll find a way to meet you here after sundown."

Rue holds out a pin. A mockingjay pin, holding an arrow in its beak. Despite whatever I'm thinking, I let her drop it onto my palm, which closes around the pin. I stroke the bird with my thumb. The bird that stopped to listen to my father. The bird that made the Capitol a joke. Even if barely. I share a connection with this bird. This bird of the rebellion.

"But what if I don't change my mind?" I ask. "How will I get it back to you?"

"You don't," Rue says. "I want you to keep it."

"I couldn't possibly -" I begin.

Rue shakes her head. "No. You don't even have to wear it. I know it'll be suspicious, to wear a gold pin in public, here in Twelve... but I just want you to keep it. Because then you'll remember that so long as the mockingjay lives, so does the rebellion."

* * *

Yep, that's all you're getting. :D Like I said, it's a bit of a teaser chapter. It hardly even counts as a chapter.

Remember, everyone: next week, the rebellion catches fire. Get excited. :)

_**Review!**_


	12. Catching Fire

Are you excited? I'm excited. I'm so ready for this rebellion.

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

Peeta is silent as we walk back. His thoughts seem to be swarming in him – so much that I don't feel like interrupting him. Once we get to the Seam, though, I have to ask. "Peeta, you can't seriously be considering that I help her, can you?"

"Gale and I would take care of Prim and your mother," he says quietly. "Katniss, we're talking about the _rebellion_. Getting rid of the Capitol!"

"Why do I have to do it?" I ask incredulously. "Panem shouldn't depend on me, Peeta."

"Because the victor of the Hunger Games – a Capitol puppet – wants your help to give Panem its freedom again. Katniss, you could be so important in the rebellion," Peeta whispers desperately. "Think about it. You. You would be..."

"I would be what?" I spit. "Peeta, nothing is more important than -"

"If Prim and your mother are trapped, they aren't living," he insists. "The only way they can be free is if -"

I groan. "Please, Peeta. You, of all people, know how difficult my life is. Don't complicate it."

Peeta wrenches the pin from my grip and holds it in front of me. "You can't cling to the arrow forever, Kat. Come on. Think about it." I wish he'd stop telling me to 'think about it'. I am thinking about it, and it's painful. "The rebellion, Katniss! Just -"

Suddenly, he gets cut off short. Frowning, Peeta brings a hand up to his shoulder, holding it as if it's in pain, or something. "What is it?" I ask, brows furrowing.

"I don't -" Peeta blinks. "Er – I feel like someone just hit me..."

My eyes follow to where his are looking. I spot a paunchy man hiding in the shadows of one of the abandoned homes. He's middle-aged, with graying hair and a sort of withered look to him. I know him, of course – everyone in our District should – but I've never actually seen him. "Mr. Abernathy," I say, surprised, speaking more in acknowledgment than greeting.

As he approaches, Haymitch Abernathy hisses to Peeta, "What's wrong with you, boy? Do you want everyone to know?"

"About the re -"

Haymitch shushes him loudly. "And it's just Haymitch, kid." Talking to me. Slurring. I feel like hurting something. There's just something about that voice that _irritates _me. "Mr. Abernathy doesn't exist."

"What do you know about... it? The thing that you don't want us to talk about?" I ask, trying to control my temper. I'm probably just ticked off because of the whole rebellion idea.

He rolls his eyes. _You are incompetent_, his face says. I think he's as drunk as he always is, which probably heightens the annoying factor. With a low voice, he mutters, "If you're who Rue Graveolens is counting on to help with the rebellion, sweetheart, Panem better drop on its knees and take the beating right now."

I narrow my eyes. "Don't call me 'sweetheart'. Or 'kid', either – I'm not a kid. I've been the head of my family since I was eleven. My name's _Katniss_, Haymitch."

The look he gives me is probably the same one I'm giving him.

"So, are you going to help her?" he asks, switching to kind curiosity.

I throw my hands up and groan. "No. I refuse to believe either of you are even considering the idea of me leaving my family behind." I stride away, determined to get home.

"Katniss," Haymitch says quietly. I don't stop. He seems to be mood-swingy, too, because he seems quite... genuine, right now. "I promise to feed your family if you go."

I turn around and stare at him. This is a different story. Gale can't feed my family – he has his own to worry about. Peeta can't feed my family – his won't let him. Haymitch, however has no family and a lot of money. "How do I know to take your word for it?" I ask suspiciously.

"That boy," says Haymitch, frowning in thought. "Gale. He can make sure I feed them."

This seems like a legitimately good idea...

No! I cannot place my family in the hands of this drunkard!

No!

"Katniss," Peeta whispers, "you have until the celebrations to think about it. Open mind. Ask your mother and Prim."

"I can talk to them, and explain all of it to all of you," Haymitch suggests.

I stare. "You're really serious about this, Haymitch."

Haymitch nods grimly. "Dead serious."

Okay. First, I meet the victor of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games, who then informs me that there is a rebellion, and wants me to help with it – _then_ the single victor of District Twelve is desperate for me to help with this stupid rebellion?

What's going on with my life?

…

District Thirteen has lived in the hiding for seventy-five years.

Twelve year old little girls can beat out Career tributes in the Hunger Games.

I can make friends with a handsome, nice boy.

So I guess maybe a revolution isn't entirely impossible. Mother – who knew Haymitch before the Quell – is surprised to find him in our house. Imagine her elevated astonishment when she discovers that he is here to tell her about a planned uprising. The winner of the last Quarter Quell tells us that District Thirteen has been preparing and thriving underground – quite literally, actually. They've been biding their time, waiting for something like Rue to happen. Even so, Rue is just a starting step... but she is a starting step that _must _happen, Haymitch says firmly. "And that little girl is important, but not important enough for Thirteen to send in some hovercrafts for her. It's too big of a risk. It's much safer for her to make a run for it."

"It's safer for her to go out in the wild. To run away. To District Thirteen," repeats Mother, brow arching.

Haymitch says hastily, "I'm getting to that. She requested Katniss' help."

Mother and Prim both look to me. Past them, Peeta gives me an infuriatingly smug little smirk. I wear the best look of composure that I can muster.

"Of course," Haymitch continues smoothly, "Katniss is having trouble deciding, since she would have a hard time leaving the both of you. However, I have a solution. Provided Katniss leaves with Rue tonight, and that you keep up with your apothecary and your cheeses and all that, I will feed you as best as I can."

"Oh, Katniss," whispers Prim. "I wouldn't see you for so long. And it would be so dangerous. I'd get so worried."

I choke back the urge to laugh. _She'd _be worried. "I'm not going, Prim."

"You have to," she says firmly. "Katniss, please? You have to."

Mother, Peeta, and Haymitch aren't saying anything because they know this is all that's necessary to get me to change my mind: Prim, strong conviction, and some pleading. I will be agreeing in a matter of seconds. I'm determined not to agree this time, though. "No, Prim. I'm staying here."

"Peeta," Prim says, turning around to him. He's sitting on the couch. She hurries to him and murmurs something quickly, the same begging look on her face.

Peeta, however, doesn't hesitate. "I would."

"Would you?" she asks, almost disbelievingly.

"Yes."

"Would you what?" I ask suspiciously.

"Peeta would go with you," Prim says. "With you and Rue, to Thirteen. You _have to_, Katniss! This is important! Not just to you or me or Haymitch or Mother or Peeta. This is all of the Districts we're talking about, Katniss... imagine how many people could be happy if you did this."

My hand, in my pocket, strokes the mockingjay pin in my hand. I hesitate. "I'll think about it."

"Really?" Prim asks.

I nod. "I promise I'll think about it."

What reason is there not to go? Every complaint I can come up with is rebutted, and rebutted quite well, at that. My family will be safe. This is a chance to free Panem. Even Gale – who I go to see after Haymitch and Peeta leave – thinks I should go. He explains, "This is a chance to fight. You and I have hated the Capitol for so long, Catnip, and this is a chance to fight. I would take it."

I haven't told him that we intend for Peeta to come along, so naturally, he's all for the idea.

Back at home, Mother has prepared clothes for me. I put them on, leaving the mockingjay pin on the bed I share with Prim. I pull the blouse down over my head and then give it a wary look. I sigh, reaching down to finger it again. There is something strangely comforting to rub my thumb against the ridges that create the feathers on it...

"Katniss," says Mother gently, "would you like me to braid your hair again?"

"Sure," I murmur, sitting down on the bed, still holding the pin in my palm. I sit in thought as Mother's hands weave in my hair. I feel the braid fall down my spine and sigh. "Mother... do you think I should go?"

As if surprised that I think her opinion matters, Mother replies, "Yes."

I turn around to her. "Why?"

"Because..." she raises her hand to put it on my cheek, "you were meant for greater things, Katniss. You may not think that you're a 'people person', or you may think that you're cold-blooded and cruel and heartless... but I don't think so. You've showed off how much you love for the past five years, sweetheart. You need to realize that maybe hunting isn't where all your love ends. You need to go further to succeed."

This is the most I've heard her say in a long time. The most in terms of length and in meaning. I'm surprised to see how she perceives me. How much so.

Her hand drops, and she stands up. "Come on, now. Let's celebrate our victor."

…

"This is so stupid. I need to – oh, I can't -"

I sound like a little girl going on her first date, or something. I feel _ridiculous_. Peeta, naturally, is choosing this to be the first time he's being unsympathetic to me. "Have you packed yet?" he asks nonchalantly.

I glare at him. "No, but Mother and Prim started while I was getting ready. I'm finishing up as soon as I can." I raise a brow at him, wanting to know if _he's _packed yet, but I'm not saying anything because Gale is here, and I don't really want to give anything away yet. Luckily, Peeta gets what I'm saying.

He nods.

"Okay," I mutter.

He bends down and whispers, "I'm already packed so you can't back out of it now."

I glare at him, threatening to take off the pin. Peeta slaps my hand.

With a firm, very even, voice, Peeta says,"No."

I throw my head back in frustration. Gale watches, both bemused and amused. I look over to the front, near the stage. Our tributes' families sit up there. Tyler's family is composed only of his parents, who sit with blank, quiet looks on their faces. I don't know how they must be feeling right now. They are practically celebrating their son's death. The other family near the stage is larger: Bee has two sisters, one younger, one older, and a younger brother. Their forlorn expressions are identical.

I can see Lola Bagatelle, the District Eleven escort, standing at the corner of the stage where she could conceivably be "in the wings", but her looks make stealth impossible – her looks remind me of our escort's, Effie Trinket. She has wild, pixie-cut blue hair and a pink tinge to her skin (accompanied with tattoos going up and down her arms). She's wearing a dress with a blueish plaid sort of patten, possibly to match her ridiculous hair. I note the earrings, too, which look alarmingly disproportionate to her head – they're huge gold four-pointed stars. Lola hugs a clipboard to her chest, wearing an earpiece. I'm sure she knows it clashes horribly with her earrings.

The crowd erupts in obligatory cheers when Rue emerges. Rue's smile is charming, adorable, and exactly what the folks in the Capitol want. That smile is false, though, which I know. Her eyes scan the crowd briefly. She can't see me, yet, but she'll find me later.

The crowd hushes as the little wisp of a victor takes her place behind the podium.

The sorrow occupying her face when she sees Bee's family is indescribable but obvious. Bee's sisters look just like Bee.

"This district is special to me," Rue begins, biting her lip. "Bee was one of the few... _happy _memories I have when it comes to the arena. It was hard from the very beginning, because I liked her. I was happy to have her as a friend, and because of that, I was afraid. I knew that our friendship would never have lasted long. If it weren't for her, I literally wouldn't be alive. I have her to thank for being alive today. You can't imagine the guilt I feel to be the one breathing."

None of what Rue has just said is normal, or perhaps permitted. I glance at Lola, and I'm positive I'm right. Lola's eyes look like they could pop out of her head.

"Tyler, I never knew," she admits, "but his life counts as much as Bee's, and I'm so sorry he was lost. I'll miss both of them – all of them. Even Danika, and Clove. They never had to die."

_I never had to kill them_, she practically said.

Rue quickly switches to the robotic script that the Capitol wants her to say. There is nothing personal about what she says next, perhaps to make her safe – but I think she knows that it's no longer necessary, because after today, Rue Graveolens is a rebel against the Capitol. Sure enough, about halfway through her speech, her eyes finally meet mine. They flicker briefly and probably find the pin. Her eyes light up. I can imagine her voice, so like my sister's, gasping, _Really, Katniss? Will you really?_

I can't believe it, but yes.

Then, suddenly, Bee's mother stands up. She touches the three middle fingers of her left hand to her lips and holds them out to Rue. This is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means admiration, goodbye to a loved one. It means thank you. The rest of the family does the same. I do, too. Then, Prim and Peeta and Gale and Mother. Then, everyone else.

_Thank you. I admire you. _

Rue smiles a little. I wonder if she knows of this little piece of our culture. Either way, she does the same, holding it out to the crowd. I am slightly pleased to know that this is the first and last District that Rue will visit for this Victory Tour. None of the other families need to go through this pain. To celebrate the little girl who lives, instead of their brother or sister or daughter or son.

With a sudden rush of feeling – most predominantly among them, determination and sadness – I am suddenly all for this rebellion. I look at the torn look in the face of Bee's sisters and the sad, guilty expression that Rue wears. I look sideways, to my sister, who is trapped. I look at Haymitch, drunk and wasted after his "victory". My mother, who gave up a privileged life for a man who died too soon after – and was never the same afterward.

Pain. Everywhere. It surrounds me, suffocating me. It always has, whether I recognized it or not.

And at this moment, I want more than anything for it to stop.

…

At sundown, I am the Meadow, a pack filled with necessities on my back. Behind me stands my family, which includes Gale. Haymitch stands off to the side, hands in his pockets. Rue is already there. She made her escape quickly – Prim lent her some clothes, because she couldn't take too much quickly enough. I sigh.

"Don't turn back," Prim murmurs, eyes pointing to my mockingjay pin.

"I won't."

Haymich steps forward and says gruffly, "You know... I've known you just for a little bit, sweetheart, but there's something about you..."

I frown. I didn't like Haymich when I met him, and in the past few hours, there has been little improvement.

"If we had gotten to know each other," he continues, his speech broken and rough, "I don't think we would have liked each other too much then, either. But there's something about you definitely worth admiring."

Surprisingly, I smile. "Thanks."

"Knock 'em dead." I wonder if he's serious.

I see Peeta approaching. He has a pack, too, and three buns in his hand. _For the trip_, I imagine him saying. "Ready," he murmurs.

Gale blows up. Typical. "He's coming?" he explodes, apparently forgetting all the chummy exchanges the two of them had shared over the past few months.

"Nobody will miss me if I leave," says Peeta quietly. "Your family needs you here, Gale."

"Oh, yes," Gale says, seething, "that's definitely the reason you're going, isn't it, brother?"

Peeta stands his ground. Straight-backed. Calm. "Yes, brother, it is." He sighs. "Gale... I don't want our friendship to end now. I'm serious. Please."

I step forward. "Gale, I need you here," I say gently. "Haymitch needs watching. You can take care of them. Your family needs you here."

"You would've taken me," he whispers, "if you'd never met him."

Smiling sadly, I step closer to him, shaking my head. "I never would've gone. I need a companion, and both of us couldn't have left at the same time."

Mother chooses this moment to give her farewells to Peeta. She hugs him, kissing his forehead like a mother ought to. I imagine he hasn't had much of those. "You be safe, okay, Peeta?" She smooths the hair on his forehead.

Peeta smiles, nodding. "Explain to my parents, if you can, will you? Or at least my dad, and my brothers."

"Of course."

Prim, sniffling, clambers up into Peeta's arms, burying her face into his shoulder and holding him tightly.

Gale bites his lip, still looking at me. "Then promise me this, at least," he murmurs, pulling me close to him. I don't protest.

"Yes?" I ask reluctantly.

"Be safe," he whispers. "Please. Stay alive. Come back to me one day."

I nod, hugging him this time. "Yes. I promise I will." I kiss his cheek. "Keep fighting."

I say goodbye to Mother, hugging her tightly and telling her to take care, and then turn to Prim, who clings to Peeta desperately. Then, she crosses over to me. "Oh, Katniss," she says, still crying, "I'll miss you so much."

"Not as much as I'll miss you," I say. This is the only time I'm truly in danger of crying.

"You should go," Mother says gently.

I nod. Peeta bends down and kisses Prim's head. "Stay safe, little Primrose." She nods, a tight smile on her face.

"Wait," says Gale. He goes past me and to Peeta. Clapping a hand on his shoulder, he says, "I'm sorry. Take care of her for – for us, won't you?"

Peeta smiles a little. "Come on, Gale. You don't seriously think that I'll take care of her? Because I won't. She'll be taking care of _me _more often than the other way around."

Gale laughs. "Right." He gives Peeta a hug, making my jaw drop. "You better come back, too, brother."

"I will."

Gale turns to me and kisses my cheek before shoving Peeta forward. "Go on."

Then, with Peeta, I turn my back on District Twelve, heading to the woods, to Rue Graveolens. To the rebellion.

* * *

That felt a bit like an extension of last chapter – but the way I think, the last chapter was short enough to need an extension :P Don't fret, though – newer events tomorrow.

_**Review!**_


	13. Let It Snow

To anon. **Lessa**: Then you could stop reading. Don't worry; I won't be offended. (And fyi, Katniss would never have allowed herself to like Peeta as more than friends if the Hunger Games still existed. Think about it.)

:)

So, people, please come on. If you're here just for the fluff, you're not doing anyone any favors. Yes, there will be fluff every now and then, but at the same time, I definitely do _not _plan on sacrificing where I want this story to go for the purpose of hormonal rage or whatever the case may be. If that displeases you, just hit the back button and go find some other fanfic where Peeta and Katniss make out for three paragraphs or something. It's undoubtedly more riveting.

Thanks for clicking, anyway! ;)

Especial thanks to the folks who got excited over this, without the fluff. ^_^ This one's for you. :) (Well, I mean, these are always for you, but I'll acknowledge it this time.)

Oh – IAS readers will recognize the character who is introduced in this chapter ;) I guess I'm filling out a bit of her story here.

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

"I wonder if we should've waited 'til morning," muses Rue as we move north. Peeta has a strap with a knife around his arm (I haven't bothered to ask why he chose a knife), the quiver is on my back, and my bow hangs by my side. I glance down at Rue's wrist, where a pouch's drawstrings are tied around. The pebbles within them clack together. With her other hand, she holds the slingshot she used with her victory.

"Nah," says Peeta, walking beside her. "You wouldn't have gotten away, remember? We have to gain as much ground away from them on the first day."

Rue sighs. "I feel kind of bad. Lola was so nice to me, too, after I'd said all those wrong things at the celebration. And Chaff... well, he's always been kind to me."

Peeta puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. I'm sure, in a matter of hours, Rue will trust him entirely. Just like my sister. And me. "It's okay. You're doing the right thing."

She smiles wistfully. "I hope so."

We encounter little trouble along the way – we spot the occasional bear or wild dog, but they don't bother us. For dinner, we have the buns that Peeta prepared for us prior to leaving. I watch him offer one to Rue and wonder why he's coming. I know he didn't exactly have the best life with his family in Twelve, but it's better in comparison to being in the wild, unsafe and running, every day. For who knows how long.

"I can keep first watch," Peeta suggests. "Tonight."

I watch him carefully. "You sure?"

Peeta nods. I think I see him looking to the knife. "I can handle."

Rue pulls out her sleeping bag. "I'll go to bed. I can share the sleeping bag with you, Katniss," she suggests.

I smile. "You go ahead. I'll stay up with Peeta a while more. I'm sure you're tired from the trip to Twelve and everything."

"Well," says Rue, shrugging and getting cozy in her sleeping bag. She yawns. "Kind of."

Rather tempted, I scoot over next to her head. Her eyes are still open. I hum a few shaky notes, stroking her hair tentatively. I begin singing Bee's Lullaby, _Constant as the Stars Above_. Her eyes widen slightly before closing. Her breathing relaxes. She is obviously tired, because by the time I finish, she seems to be sleeping soundly.

I look over to Peeta, who is watching me.

"You should go to bed, too," he says softly.

I shake my head, moving back beside him. "I'm fine."

"No regrets?"

I look back to Rue. "No regrets." I look at Peeta, who's looking up at the stars. "What about you? Do you want to turn around yet?"

"Kat," he says seriously, turning to me, "I will not turn around. Not so long as you're heading this direction."

I'm kind of embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze. What does he mean? Not waiting for a response, he looks up at the sky, once again occupied. I don't understand this boy. "Peeta," I say. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

"Yes."

There is no doubt in his voice, which unsettles me. "I have a bad feeling about this, though," I insist. "There's something wrong with this happening."

He smiles, looking down again, but not at me. After a short laugh, he turns, leaning close to me. "Katniss, I'm sure you're not very acquainted with this phenomenon. It's understandable, of course, and I don't judge you, but this bad feeling you're describing is what normal people call 'fear'."

I scowl. "I know what 'fear' is," I mutter resentfully.

"Well, then." He smiles.

"I know what it's like to be scared..."

"Then, I tell you now, Kat, that's what you're feeling right now." He cuts off my protest and says, "What you feel normally, when you're scared for your family, that's worry. This is fear. Throwing yourself into something that could potentially get your head cut off."

"Thanks, Peeta," I say sardonically. "That helps."

He puts his arm around me and gives my shoulders a squeeze. "You'll be fine, Katniss Everdeen. The Great Hunter." Peeta takes a deep breath, and his arm drops. "Go on. Go to sleep. I'll wake you up in an hour or two."

This time, I decide not to protest, because Peeta looks up at the sky again. I think he'd rather be alone with his thoughts. Convinced, I gently squeeze in next to Rue. Even asleep, she snuggles up against me. I close my eyes. The feeling is familiar, after all... but it just reminds me that back home, a little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes has no big sister to snuggle up to, tonight.

...

"Katniss. Wake up."

My eyes open immediately. Peeta is lying on the ground next to me (out of the sleeping bag). One arm is behind his head; the other is over his eyes. He's snoring peacefully, and the sight of it makes me smile for a moment. I turn to Rue, who is on watch right now. "What's wrong?"

"I hear something," she whispers. Rue moves over to Peeta, shaking him awake. "Wake up, Peeta."

"Hnnmg?" he mumbles.

"Peeta," I murmur. "Get up." I pull out of the sleeping bag. I hear it, too. It's like a buzzing. Far away but loud – it isn't a tracker jacker nest. That much I know.

Peeta frowns, rubbing his eyes. "What's that noise?"

Rue nods, brows furrowed. "It's been here just for a minute or two. I thought it'd go away."

"But it didn't," I say, looking up in confusion. I stand up and climb up the tree closest to me. I've always been pretty good at climbing – at least more than Gale; he claims it's because of my size, but a lot of it has to do where you put your feet, too. I climb as far as I can go and then peek above the canopy.

I might have fallen. I scramble down, jumping off the tree.

"We need to go," I say, mind spinning.

"What?" Rue asks. "What was it?"

I look up, past the branches. I can see it now that I know it's there. "A hovercraft."

"What?" Peeta says, standing up. Rue is already rolling up the sleeping bag. I bend down so she can hoist it on my pack.

I grit my teeth, looking up at the skies. "It's the Capitol. I saw their seal."

Peeta looks up, for the first time looking legitimately afraid. "No way. How would they know..."

"Rue," I remind him. "They'll be looking for her."

Rue bites her lip. "They might think you're kidnapping me or something."

"We need to move but stay under cover," says Peeta, pulling his pack on, strapping the knife to his arm again. He looks to me. "We can't attack them, you know."

"I know." I strap on the quiver next to my pack anyway. "I probably have to save the arrows, anyway."

Peeta nods. "Which way should we go?"

"Keep going north," I say. "And fast."

So, we keep on going. We walk quickly, glancing up every now and again at the skies. The trees block our view above, but the buzzing never goes away. When we've walked for who-knows-how-long, I finally pull both Rue and Peeta to a stop. All three of us are panting.

"They can see us," I rasp. "We've been walking forever. There's no way..."

Suddenly, Rue hushes me. "Listen."

I grit my teeth but do as she says. I hear nothing except the buzzing. The buzzing... and... "What's that?" I ask, sighing.

"Footsteps." Rue closes her eyes. "Lots of them. _Really fast_."

"We can take them if we're on the ground," I say.

Rue shakes her head. "I'd rather not. Come _on_!" She grabs my hand and pulls me onward.

A lot more running occurs. The thundering steps and the loud buzzing don't seem to be going away. I may be imagining it, but it feels even more that they're coming _closer_. "Katniss!" Peeta calls out to me. "Mutts!"

"What?"

"MUTTS!"

I turn around and almost trip. They are the same mutts that fed on Clove that last day of the Games. I turn to Rue, who looks horrified. I can already picture the nightmares of the past few months flooding into her brain. Except now, it's reality. I wonder if she regrets running now.

I push her ahead, but hold my ground. I do a quick count. There are six. I guess that others might be coming.

"Katniss!" Peeta and Rue both scream.

I take aim. Straight through their jaws, their eyes. I try to keep my breathing even. _They are oversized __wild dogs. Nothing more. That's all they are. You deal with these things every day._

"Katniss, they're going to have more!" screams Rue. "We have to _run_!"

"Go ahead of me." I don't turn around to them. "GO!"

I don't hear their footsteps, so they aren't running. Naturally. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rue climb up the tree next to me. She takes aim. Like me, she's aiming for the face. The pebbles won't kill them, but it'll slow them down at best. Peeta, it seems, is handier with a knife than I'd realized. I don't know where he possibly could have learned something like that – but either way, he's quite efficient with it.

The first six mutts are killed much too easily. "More are definitely going to come," I say. "Come on."

We take off again, away from the mutts. I feel kind of bad taking Peeta, now, because I know he's not as nimble as Rue or me. If it were just me with Rue, we probably could get away faster on the trees. I don't deny Peeta's value, though; it's good to have him around. Just not right now. "We'll never get away from them," says Rue, out of breath.

"On the bright side, no mutts," Peeta says.

I laugh dryly. "Don't jinx it."

"And anyway," says Rue, "the Capitol hovercraft can still see us. How is it they can still see us?"

For a long time, neither Peeta and I can think of a response. I look at him. His jaw is tight, and his temple throbs. Finally, he sighs and opens his mouth.

"We have to go out in the open."

"Okay, I'm going to trust that you have a valid explanation for that crazy idea," I say.

Peeta half-smiles. "Look. Right now, all of them are safe, right? We can't get them. If they see Rue, they'll come down to get her, and that would make them within shooting distance. Unless they've already seen the mutts – they probably haven't – then they have no idea Katniss has perfect aim. They wouldn't have any reason to be afraid, right?"

"What if they get Rue before we can do anything?" I ask worriedly.

"I'll make sure they don't." Rue crosses her arms. "Right now this is the only thing we can do, Katniss, so we'll do it."

I sigh. It's hardly been a day, yet. I really hope every day after this is going to be smooth sailing. But, of course, the odds are entirely against that happening.

...

My heart is thumping a mile a minute. I _do _know what fear feels like, and this is it. I've never felt more afraid in my life, and that's coming from someone who's had way-too-many entries into the Hunger Games. Peeta squeezes my hand. "Relax. The fear is just oozing out of you."

"Peeta, I'd like you to be told you're going to kill someone and be not scared," I mutter.

He sighs. "It's for Rue's sake."

"I'm _killing _someone."

Peeta cannot find a response; I probably wouldn't have been able to, either. My eyes remain locked on Rue, who stands in the middle of the open little area, just out of the woods. I've already nocked an arrow. One finger above the arrow on the drawstring, two below. My tense fingers tap the string impatiently. As expected, the majority of the hovercraft's passengers descend via rope ladder, just a few seconds later.

There are three of them: all men. Two are wearing Peacekeeper uniforms. The other is wearing dress of his own. I've never seen him in person until now, but I definitely know who he is.

"President Snow!" greets Rue sweetly. "How are you? I'm so sorry I left before I got to the Capitol. I was so looking forward to meeting you."

"Miss Graveolens," says President Snow, "why don't we make this easy and promise each other that we won't be doing any _lying _to one another?"

Rue shrugs. "Have it your way."

"Where are your companions? I know there are at least two others with you."

"They're elsewhere."

"Where, precisely?"

"Oh, I don't know," says Rue, hands in her pockets. "Up a tree somewhere, maybe."

President Snow's already snakelike eyes narrow. "Miss Graveolens... where do you think you're going?"

"Out of here."

I'm expected to assassinate the president? If it were just that easy, then wouldn't someone else have done it a long time ago? I sigh. "Who do I shoot first?" I whisper to Peeta.

Peeta's eyes flicker back and forth. "The Peacekeepers. The one furthest from Snow, so he doesn't know it's coming. Or at least we can hope."

"What if I miss? Will Snow pick up the arrow and hand it back to me?" I ask sarcastically.

"You won't miss."

I grind my back teeth together and then aim. The first Peacekeeper falls. _I just killed someone_. And then the second. _This is for Rue_. President Snow whips around. "What -"

He leaps out of the way just as my arrow flies. The arrow stabs into the tree behind President Snow.

"I won't miss?" I ask Peeta accusingly.

President Snow whips out a dagger just as Peeta and I rush out. I hold the bow up, pointing the arrow at the _president _of my country. He takes Rue around the shoulders and presses the blade against her neck.

No, no, no, no, no.

"Let go of that drawstring, Katniss," he murmurs. "I _dare you_."

"I dare you to let her go," I challenge.

President Snow smiles cruelly. "Only if you let her go back."

"Never."

"I ought to remind you of your situation right now, Katniss," he says slowly. "I currently have Rue at my mercy. There is a Peacekeeper in the hovercraft above me aiming a gun at Mr. Mellark. And I think that something else should be brought up as well: your family is left almost entirely undefended at home. You think you can save the day by shooting me?"

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I point my arrow down. This cannot be happening.

"Yes," he says, pleased. "Very good."

"Let. Her. Go," I hiss.

"You would have done well in the Games, I think," the president breathes. "What a force to reckon with you would be. Perhaps I can alter the Quell to cater to that idea."

My face flushes. "I won't be home to be reaped for the Quell."

"No, but your sister will be."

I am trapped. Always trapped.

"Please," I beg, "don't touch her." I should have taken her with us.

"Well, Miss Everdeen, you see my problem here is that I don't want Rue making it to Thirteen,"says President Snow. "The idea of a victor being in the hands of the rebels? I shiver at the thought. You, though, are determined to fight against me. What I want is for you to let Rue carry on with her Victory Tour. You and Mr. Mellark will be brought home, and you can live life as you always have. Everyone will be safe."

"We're never safe!" I snap. "Unless I have an unlimited food supply and no Hunger Games, my family will never be safe. Your offer is stupid."

"Well, yes," admits President Snow, "but see, that's one choice. The other is Rue dying now, Peeta dying now, and then Mr. Hawthorne, your mother, and your sister, dying not too soon from now. You will be alone in the world. What will you do then? Continue to Thirteen?"

I falter, unable to think of any response.

"Don't listen to him, Kat," Peeta whispers, but I can imagine him looking up, just like he had last night. Up at the hovercraft. Like there's something there that he can see, but I can't.

Then – I'm not sure if I'm imagining it or not – something happens. I see a shadow behind President Snow's. My brows furrow. The shadow is a rough outline of a smallish person, carrying – is that a bat?

With a loud hit, President Snow's eyeballs roll, and his dagger drops.

Then, so does he, revealing a petite girl about my age, holding – yes – a bat. She twirls it, a smirk on her face. She's undeniably pretty, with perfect, wavy red-brown locks and wide brown eyes. "Well, well. You three must be important, considering the president of Panem wants you dead."

"Is _he _dead?" I ask.

"No, just knocked out," says the girl. "Unfortunately. Who are you?"

I turn to Rue, who looks around at the girl. "I'm Rue Graveolens; I'm from Eleven. This is Katniss and Peeta. They're from Twelve."

"Rue Graveolens – that sounds familiar. You won the Games, right?" she asks. Clearly, she is no resident of Panem... or, at least, the Districts that still belong to the Capitol.

Rue nods.

"Excellent. You're a fighter. And clearly, so are you two," she says, turning to Peeta and me. "Quick. Let's go before he wakes up, or before that guy up there realizes he's been knocked out."

"Wait!" Peeta bursts out. "Who _are _you?"

The girl grins. She switches the bat over to her left hand and holds out her right to shake. "Lira Hunt. District Thirteen."

* * *

More tomorrow ;)

_**Review!**_


	14. District Thirteen

A shorter chapter, for **Avatarfanx2**. :) I'm not updating twice, though – I'll be out the entire afternoon haha.

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

Peeta shakes her hand, eyes not leaving her at all. There's something about the way he looks at her that bothers me; he shouldn't be distracted by pretty girls. We're on the run from the president. Ugh. I really hope this doesn't get out of hand. I smash the image of Peeta and Lira out of my head before I feel tempted to hurt something.

Lira smiles. "Well, then. Let's go." She lets go of Peeta's hand, swinging the bat around again. "Oh, and you're _welcome_."

"Thanks," I mutter.

"Oh, this is perfect," she says excitedly. "To have a victor in Thirteen."

I frown, crossing my arms. "What exactly what were you doing out so far from Thirteen, anyway?"

"Oh, I'm usually out far away from Thirteen," she admits. "My uncle – well, practically my dad since my _real _dad died – is Thirteen's President's right-hand man. They let me take care of the runaways." She grins. "Better than planning rebellions. I'm more of a people person."

"Thirteen has a president?" I ask.

Lira nods. "Yeah. President Alma Coin. She's a political pain in the behind."

Peeta's forced nervous laugh irritates me.

Ignoring him, Lira says, "What's your story?"

"Why don't you tell her, Rue?" I ask, falling into step next to Peeta. Rue talks enthusiastically to Lira, who listens intently. I look at Peeta carefully.

"What?" he asks, blushing.

I narrow my eyes. "Nothing."

"Lira," I hear Rue say after explaining "our story", "what's that on your am?"

I see it now. Lira looks down at her arm and rolls up her sleeve. "This is my schedule. It's a temporary tattoo."

I frown. "That's... restricting."

"Who says I have to listen?" asks Lira quietly. "I'll pay for my disobedience. That's what Uncle says all the time. I've never paid attention to my schedule, except for the meals."

"What's it like?" Rue asks. "In Thirteen?"

Lira shrugs. "No big deal. Some of them are getting impatient, though... I mean after seventy-four years, you'd think we would have gotten somewhere with this rebellion. I've only been around sixteen years, and I'm getting impatient." She looks to me. "That's kind of the reason I'm really excited that all three of you are coming."

I raise a brow. "Rue, I understand. Why Peeta and me?"

The other girl smiles. "You know, Katniss, I think you're the type of person who underestimates herself."

"She is," cuts in Peeta.

Rue giggles. I roll my eyes and say, "Yeah? What makes you think that?"

"Not just anyone who lives in Panem can have as good aim as you. Heck, not just anyone in Panem can get their hands on a bow and arrow," says Lira. "You're not supposed to exist. And yet, you do."

"Like a mockingjay," Rue realizes.

Lira nods. "Which is why you, Katniss, will be really important. We just don't know how yet."

"Right," I mutter.

I figure, since we came across Lira, we aren't too far away from the District. But we keep walking... and walking... and walking... for what feels like hours. The sun tells me that we've been walking for what feels to be way too long. Peeta looks as tired as I feel; Rue's in better shape than him, so she's getting along – but none of us are as relaxed as Lira. She walks on, back straight, chin up, as if she'd been walking just for ten seconds.

"How... much further... away... are we?" Peeta breathes.

Lira looks to him, apparently not sympathetic to his exhaustion. "Oh, we'll not be there 'til late after nightfall, _if _we keep up our pace."

"Nightfall!" Rue cries.

Now, Lira smiles a little sympathetically. "Yeah, I know. It's a long walk."

I frown. "That's not what I'm worried about. The walking, we can live through."

"Yeah, I know," says Lira, looking up to the skies with a grim look. "We'll be heading out to the plains sometime soon... and being in the woods was dangerous as it was."

"You don't think President Snow'll be coming again?" asks Peeta.

Both Lira and I shake our heads. Lira says, "That's as much danger as the president can take, Peeta. He'll be back safe and sound behind his desk, sending out his pawns. Peacekeepers we can handle. It's the mutts I'm worried about."

Rue clears her throat. "Let's not dwell on it."

"Right," Lira murmurs.

As the sun sets, my eyes begin scanning the horizon for the rubble I ought to recognize from the tapes. I realize now that this is the first time I will be ever out of District Twelve, in another District. And it's a District that I believed to no longer exist. What is my life? How did I get thrown into this? I've lived a life of no particular consequence, you know – I glance at Peeta, and how my life started changing when I befriended him. I feel like it _did _start with him, and his friendship. After all... that's when I started caring about anything more than Prim.

"There it is!" Rue cries. "I see it!"

I see it, too. Past the broken vegetation and the hills, I see it. District Thirteen.

"It's really there," Peeta whispers. "District Thirteen."

Lira gives us a sidelong glance. She smiles. "Yeah. You're not dreaming."

Peeta smiles, but doesn't look at her. "You think they'll be able to accommodate us?"

"Well, we've been accommodating a bunch of people before you," Lira points out. "And you're escorting the victor of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. We will definitely be able to accommodate you guys."

I grit my teeth, determined. Everything's beginning to hit me now: I am partaking in the rebellion. I'm leaving my family basically undefended at home. I'm escorting the victor of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games to a District I believed to be dead. District Thirteen is real. I will not be seeing Prim, or Mother, or Gale, for a long, long time.

Lira puts a hand on my arm. Gently, she murmurs, "Are you okay?"

I'm startled, because she's sending off Peeta-like vibes right now. "I'm fine."

"You'll be safe," she assures me.

I appreciate the effort, of course, but the problem is, it's not _my _safety I'm worried about.

Peeta puts his hands on my shoulders and leans close to my ear. "They'll be safe. Gale and Haymitch will take care of them. Tom and Eddy and my dad, too. They wouldn't let Prim go hungry. That's a lot of people who care about your family; it's not just you."

_That's _what I needed to hear. I press my lips together and nod. "Right."

"Relax," he murmurs soothingly.

"Okay," I breathe.

Peeta turns my head to face him and smiles. "Okay. Come on. Rebel time."

"Rebel time," I repeat dizzily.

…

"Welcome home, Lira."

Lira runs into the arms of a just-older-than-middle-aged man, with close cropped gray hair and blue eyes. I study him. His resemblance to Lira is nonexistent, but I can tell that he cares about her. "Hi, Uncle."

"Did you run into trouble?" he asks, apparently ignoring us for the time being.

She laughs dryly. "Well, why don't I introduce these guys, first?"

"Please."

"Well, guys, this is my Uncle Boggs. Uncle Boggs, this is Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, from District Twelve," says Lira, "and then this is Rue Graveolens. She won the Hunger Games just a few months ago."

Boggs' eyes widen. "You're kidding."

Lira shakes her head. "But see, since she's kind of high-priority, the president immediately wanted her back. They cut off her Victory Tour, you see. That's the trouble we ran into." Eyes shining, Lira says, "Uncle, I knocked out the president."

His eyes are huge now. "You don't say." Boggs clears his throat. "Okay. This is going to be important. Lira, we need to talk to Coin."

The contempt Lira has for President Coin is obvious. She scowls and then rolls her eyes. "Right."

"Come on, kids."

Boggs leads us through District Thirteen. I can see them staring at us – we don't fit in, of course. Everyone's wearing the same clothes while we're wearing the dirty clothes that we'd worn since yesterday... I can't believe that all this time, District Thirteen has been a full day's walk away. "My legs feel ready to collapse," Rue whimpers.

"We'll get to rest soon," says Lira gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Come."

"I need to sit down," she groans.

"So do I," I agree, shaking my legs out. I've never felt so tired in my life.

"Just hold on a little bit longer," urges Boggs. "You can do this."

As soon as we get into what Boggs and Lira call "Command", they push us into chairs surrounding a conference table. If my legs could speak, they'd be sighing in relief. I lean back. I feel sore all over. It's not just my legs. "President Coin will be here in a minute," says Boggs.

"Oh, what am I doing here?" I groan, massaging my legs. "Ugh..."

"Sorry," Rue whispers.

I realize my mistake. "No. Sorry. I'm just tired. I'm glad to be coming here with you, Rue – but that was a lot of walking."

The door opens. "What's going on, Boggs?"

Rue, Peeta, and I turn to the door. The woman standing there is older than Boggs. She looks like someone I'd not cross. Someone I wouldn't like. A scowl comes to my face just at the sight of her – she looks so... disagreeable. Her gray hair falls in an unbroken sheet down to her shoulders, and her eyes remind me of the color of slush – the kind that gets left over on the roads when it's rained just after snow.

"Well, well, well," breathes President Coin. "This isn't a normal bunch of runaways."

"President Coin -" begins Lira.

She ignores Lira. "Who might this be?"

"Er, President Coin, I'm Rue Graveolens," says Rue, pushing herself up. I see the pain in her face, though, to use her legs.

"Sit down," says President Coin, "I know the journey here is no easy one especially on foot."

_This _woman runs Thirteen? Maybe it's because Lira called her a "political pain in the behind", but she just seems so unlikeable.

"I know who you are," says President Coin, looking to Rue, "but not you two."

Rue explains for me. "These are my friends. They helped me here. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. They're from Twelve."

"Why?"

I frown. "Sorry?"

President Coin frowns. "_Why _did you help her here?"

"To help the rebellion?" I say.

"You said that as a question. You're not sure."

"No," I say hastily. "I did. I do want to help the rebellion."

"And so do I," says Peeta. I hope he'll do the talking – we all know that Peeta's the people person. Peeta continues, "Ma'am, we helped Rue here because we know that Rue could be a valuable asset to the rebellion, and we're both willing to do what we can to assist."

President Coin studies him, then me. "What can you do?"

"Katniss has flawless aim, ma'am," Peeta responds. "She's been hunting for her family, feeding them, since she was eleven years old."

"And you?"

Peeta hesitates, so I pick up. "He's very strong, and he's quite handy with a knife." Then, I add, "And Peeta's quite good with people."

President Coin seems to be always frowning.

"Soldier Hunt, please escort these two to someplace they can get some rest. I'd like to talk to Soldier Graveolens in the mean time," says President Coin. "One compartment for all three."

I decide not to complain, although under normal circumstances I wouldn't have wanted to share quarters with Peeta. "Thanks, ma'am."

President Coin raises a brow, as if to say, _For what?_

"Boggs," she says, "stay here with us."

"Right. Yes, ma'am.'

Peeta and I – in much pain – follow Lira back out. As soon as the door shuts behind us, Lira groans. "Ugh. She is _so annoying_. She never takes me seriously. I'm just a little girl to her."

"She seems very... uh, mean," I agree.

"Mean doesn't even begin to cut it." Lira puts her hands in her pockets. "She's so... ugh. Okay. Come on, I'll drop you off at your compartment." She eyes the two of us. "You don't mind sharing, do you?"

"No," both of us say, a bit hastily. I mean, saying "yes" would be a bit rude.

Lira smiles, introducing us to the "compartment". "Right. Listen, you get some sleep, okay? I know you're tired. Rue'll be in as soon as President _Pain _is finished with her. I'll be here as soon as you get up."

"Right." Peeta eyes the bed, tempted.

"I should be going through all the rules with you right now – President's orders – but I don't care. You're tired, I'm feeling rebellious, and we'd rather not go through it right now," says Lira cheerfully "Sleepwear in the dressers, bathroom just right here." She points at the door directly across from the compartment. Like I said, I'll go over all the rules tomorrow. Just, in the mean time... don't do anything that feels like something you shouldn't do."

* * *

I expect I'll come up with something more exciting tomorrow.

_**Review!**_


	15. Soldier Mellark

Okayokayokayokay. I know this is last-minute, and I was planning to ask everyone, but suddenly it was the fifteenth chapter, and then I didn't … well, yeah. Okay, so I'm thinking we're going to have Peeta narrate for a while – at least 'til chapter twenty. Don't bust your buttons. ^_^

lol. Pardon my humor – Beetee's last name is "Dobbs". As in like beeteedubs, if anyone gets that. :P

And you know, I'll be honest: I have _no _idea where I'm going from here. I'm seriously just writing blindly right now.

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

Over the next few nights, symptoms of nightmares become abundantly clear to me. They're painful to watch – probably more painful to experience them, I know; it's still painful, though.

Rue got the upper bunk, Katniss got the lower bunk. I got the single.

The first night is excruciating. I feel as though maybe the exhaustion did it for Rue. I wonder if she ever felt that tired during the Games. I'd hope not, since that fatigue would quite literally be killing in the arena. Either way, the walking today seems to have spurred some of the nightmares that weren't there the night previous.

I, for one, am awoken by her thrashing and whimpering in her bunk. I look to Katniss, who isn't stirred because she's involved of nightmares of her own.

I stretch my sore legs out and ignore the stiff feeling I get from walking those two steps over to the bunk bed. I'm not sure if the dried moistness that lines Katniss' cheeks are sweat or tears. Maybe both. Her hair is in tangled disarray on her pillow. She clings to the blanket desperately, as though someone were trying to take it from her. I stand on my tiptoes to look at Rue, who's worse off.

The sheets are tangled around her limbs. She looks so small. Fragile. Breakable. I want nothing more than to gather her in my arms and rock her gently. I want to whisper to her that everything will be all right. But something tells me that these horrors are not easily remedied – or, in fact, entirely remedied _ever_.

Katniss wakes up in a scream. "Run!" she yells, sitting up. This makes Rue's eyes open, at last, wide and frightened. I smile at her encouragingly before looking down to Katniss. She's breathing heavily, still clinging the blanket. Katniss shuts her eyes and exhales shakily.

"Oh, Kat," I whisper. "Rue, come down here."

I know Katniss will probably be uncomfortable, but I don't care. Rue crawls onto Katniss' bed with me. Putting an arm around Katniss and letting Rue lean against me, I whisper, "You'll both be fine, okay? You'll be fine."

Katniss rocks back and forth, still breathing through her mouth. She tries to inhale, but I hear the sniffle. I let Rue lie back down, putting a hand on her sweaty forehead before standing back up. I grab a handkerchief from our government-issued dressers and hand it to Katniss. I sit down cross-legged in front of her.

"Sorry," she mumbles.

Of _course _she would apologize. I shake my head and take her in my arms again. "Shh. No. It's not your fault. That's ridiculous."

Much to my surprise, Katniss leans against me willingly. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"I was awake before then."

I can hear Katniss gulping. On the bright side, though, both their breathing is even, now. Rue crawls up to Katniss. "You have nightmares, too?"

"My father," Katniss explains.

Rue's lower lip trembles as she looks up at Katniss. "Oh."

"You were dreaming of the Games?" asks Katniss quietly.

"Yeah. I guess my body remembered being tired, and..." Rue looks down at her lap, almost embarrassed.

I smooth Katniss' hair away from her forehead. How I wish I'd be able to do that all the time. "Why don't you two sleep here together? Keep away the nightmares."

Rue nods willingly, already lying down. I pull down Rue's pillow and give it to them. Katniss looks to me, eyes wide with some sort of vulnerability I've never, _ever _seen in her. She holds my hand. "Stay with us until we fall asleep."

I nod. "Of course."

Katniss lies down next to Rue, who pushes up against her. Katniss doesn't seem to mind. Still holding my hand, Katniss closes her eyes. How I wish their dreams would be as peaceful as they look now. Alternating stroking their hair with my other hand, I wait until they fall asleep.

When the grip on my hand slackens, I look to Katniss. I _think _she's sleeping. I lean over and kiss Rue's forehead, then – I give my Kat a cautious look. Wryly, I realize that this is probably the only time I'll get to this. Bending down, I very lightly kiss Katniss' cheek.

"Good night, Kat," I murmur, letting go of her hand.

…

"Good morning, Soldier Mellark."

I turn to see Lira, carrying her tray of breakfast as well. It's been a week. I'm used to seeing the seemingly spare amounts of food on people's trays – today, she has a bowl of hot grain, a cup of milk, and a scoop of fruits and vegetables. It's turnips today, which I have, too. "Good morning, to you, too, Soldier Hunt."

"How were the girls last night?"

Despite not living with us, Lira is very aware of my roommate's nightmares. I think back. "Well, I slept peacefully. They didn't wake me up."

"So it's getting better," she notes.

I nod. "At least." I give her a dry smile. "I imagine having to learn about 'nuclear history' and things blowing up isn't helping with Katniss."

Lira half-smiles. "Well, none of us like it, either." She glances down at my arm, and with incredibly fast reading, she deduces, "I have training with you, today."

"All right." To be honest, I don't see much in Lira. She reminds me too much of myself to be comfortable. She's pretty, I'll give you that, but a lot of girls are pretty. It takes more than _pretty _to leave a mark.

Lira waves at someone beyond me. "Good morning, Soldier Everdeen, Soldier Graveolens."

Katniss gives a nod of greeting to Lira. "Same to you, Soldier Hunt."

Training, nuclear history class. They'd be less boring if I felt I was actually doing something to contribute to the rebellion. I know Rue enjoys it. Lira tolerates it. Katniss, I think, finds it to be a waste of time. When the two of us are in Command with Rue – only because Rue finds it totally necessary – Coin talks about invasions and propos (advertisements, messages, interviews, footage used on Airtime Assault against the Capitol), but honestly, I feel like nothing's happening. The propos are all being filmed, but there is no _war _going on.

The Districts are unaware of Thirteen. The Capitol is going on with its plans about the Quell (the announcement is in a month).

"Why don't we just have a propo announcing Thirteen?" asks Katniss impatiently.

Coin responds icily, "Because that doesn't have much stealth, now, does it?"

"You need to get something started!" she snaps. I have a feeling that every day Katniss spends away from Prim, Mrs. Everdeen, and Gale is just getting closer to her snapping. I try to console her, of course, and normally I can succeed, but nowadays Katniss is just inconsolable. Still fuming, Katniss demands, "What are you _waiting _for?"

"Katniss," says Rue gently, "settle down."

If it were anyone but Rue, Katniss probably would have hit them. She grits her teeth and settles in her seat.

"Remember your place, Soldier Everdeen," says President Coin irritably.

Patiently, Boggs says, "We need to do things one step at a time, Soldier Everdeen."

Katniss presses her lips together. "Fine. What's step one?"

Lira clears her throat. "President, Uncle, if I can... just say something?"

Looking irritated that she's being bossed around by some teenagers, President Coin says more than asks, "What."

"I suggest we get the victors first. Then the Capitol rebels," she says. "We need them here with us. Out of where the Capitol can see them."

"And," Katniss adds, suddenly liking the idea, "the Capitol rebels will be better contributors to the revolution than us."

This is a good point, which President Coin probably appreciates – if she does, it's not showing. "Hm," muses Boggs. "I like that idea, actually, President."

Tiredly, President Coin stands up and turns away from us. "Heavensbee and Fulvia. I want them here. Then Soldiers Odair, Mason, Dobbs... maybe Abernathy. Oh, Wiress... Blight, Woof, Cecelia, Chaff, and Seeder... and the morphlings, I guess." She frowns. "And whoever Heavensbee wants here with us. Boggs, get the Soldier York planning it. I want this happening before next week."

I recognize some of the names – Finnick Odair. Johanna Mason. Beetee Dobbs. Haymitch, of course. Chaff... that's Rue's mentor. These are all victors. They're _rebels_. I look at Rue, whose eyes are wide with surprise. Yeah, I'd look like that if I found out that _my _mentor is a rebel.

"What about us?" asks Lira loudly.

"What _about _you?" President Coin says.

"I want to go."

Boggs looks horrified. "No -"

"Yes," interrupts President Coin. "She ought to come."

Lira looks astounded. I feel astounded. She _wants _Lira to go?

"And I want Soldier Everdeen and Soldier Mellark to go as well," says President Coin, earning a bit of a surprised little jump from Katniss. "But... Soldier Graveolens I want to stay."

"No." Rue frowns. "I want to go."

President Coin shakes her head. "I forbid it."

"But -"

"No."

"Why?" Rue demands.

"You're too important," says President Coin. Oh, that makes sense. Katniss, Lira, and I are disposable. Rue is the potential face of the rebellion. She won't be safe, sneaking into the Districts and taking victors – famous people – to Thirteen.

Rue frowns.

"You'll be safer here, Rue," I remind her.

"That's not the point," says Katniss. "Rue should come. This is her fight as much as it is ours."

Rue sighs. "No. I'll stay." She stands up to leave. "But just this time. I'm doing something in this rebellion, even if it isn't today."

…

Upon realization that Haymitch leaving removes the reassurance of her family's feeding, Katniss convinced Coin to keep him there – in the process, though, Coin bent and announced that Mrs. Everdeen and Prim would be coming to Thirteen. Katniss is elated, as we make the trip around to Seven – the victors have been contacted and have been told to expect the rebels. I don't know exactly why the soldiers (including Katniss, Lira, and me) are necessary, but it's still a little bit exciting to know that we're actually getting somewhere with this.

Getting Johanna and Blight isn't difficult (they were eady, and it's easy to sneak in, with District Seven's tall trees to shield us), but _Johanna _is difficult. She sends off a threatening vibe, is aware of it, and really couldn't care less.

Unlike Lira and me, Katniss is unafraid of the ruthless victor. "You aren't afraid of me, honey?" asks Johanna. She sits in the cabin with her legs and arms crossed, slouching in her seat. She gives Katniss a falsely sweet smile.

Katniss raises a brow. "What's to be scared of?"

Johanna lets out a laugh. "I think you and I won't get along." She looks to me. "How about you, gorgeous? What's to be scared of, huh?"

I ignore the flush on my face. "Nothing."

"Right." Johanna looks indifferent.

I glance at Blight, who smiles a little. _She's always like this_, it feels like he's saying.

First, the morphlings, then Woof (Cecelia chooses not to come; she has children), then Beetee and Wiress, then Seeder and Chaff.

This is too easy.

But, of course, I might be jinxing it – Finnick Odair is still coming, and he's the highest of high profiles there is.

"How is Rue?" asks Chaff.

Chaff is six feet tall, with dark skin like Rue's, and an arm that ends in a stump. He could have had it fixed, of course, but he might have wanted not to. I think it might have to do with hating the Capitol. I look to Katniss, who probably wouldn't have wanted anything from them, either. If she had the choice.

He sounds genuinely concerned about Rue. I reply, "She's good. She has nightmares."

"We all do," says Seeder, rubbing her temple. I look around to the victors.

Katniss leans in close to me and murmurs, "Like their own little club of misery."

I nod. "It's horrible."

Boggs looks to us. "You know the plan on how to get Finnick?"

"Do we," Lira mutters. I smile at her impatience. We've gone over the plan several times – enough to make the three of us, and the soldiers that Coin has sent along with us, incredibly impatient.

It _should _be simple: knock out some Peacekeepers, sneak in, sneak out, knock out some more Peacekeepers. I cross my arms. As if reading my mind, Katniss murmurs in amusement, "It _should _be simple, unless it isn't."

I laugh. "Right."

"You sure we can't go, Boggsy?" asks Johanna. I can see her bursting with enthusiasm, wanting to get in there.

"Stay here," he says firmly. "You're too important."

Again, the words drip of the implication that all us soldiers are simply disposable. Katniss scowls. I can imagine what she'd say: _I'll show _you _disposable_. After a few seconds, Boggs says, "Okay. Go."

They send us down.

It is not as stealthy as the other Districts, though – Finnick is _important_. Like Rue, he'll have Peacekeepers and admirers surrounding him everywhere. For the first time, I feel legitimately afraid. The soldiers spread out, cutting through the people, who are alarmed and yelling out cries, calling us invaders and attackers and just everything I don't want to hear.

We're on their side. I really, really wish they knew.

We need to find Finnick. Need to find Finnick.

It's chaos from that very second. The people run around, calling out names of their loved ones to make sure that they're all right. District Four is bigger than I expected. The smell of saltwater jams my nose, mixed with the cool sea breeze. The Peacekeepers swarm around us, and I do get a hit in every now and again, but I'm not killing – which, I guess, is a good thing. Katniss is evasive, saving her arrows.

"Peeta!" I hear someone yell. I look around wildly. It's Lira, who has a full-grown man in a headlock. She shouts something, but I can't hear her.

"What?" I call back.

"They -" I hear, "- coming!"

"They're coming?" I repeat to myself.

Lira screams: "They knew we were coming! We have to abort!"

"NO!" I hear Katniss shriek. _Shriek_? Katniss doesn't _shriek –_ in other words, this is a bad sign. "We can't!"

I can hear Boggs in my earpiece: "Mellark, get Everdeen. They knew we were coming. They might bomb you."

"Katniss, we have to go!" I yell. Would they seriously bomb us? Are we that big of a deal?

"No!" she bellows back at me. She sets off at a dead sprint, knocking over both civilians and authority. She's headed toward the rendezvous, of course. The question is if she'll make it.

I don't find out, though.

Instead, I'm knocked out.

* * *

OMG WHAT DID I JUST DO.

Okay, I _think _I know what I'm doing from here on. Sort of. Kind of. Maybe. :D I'll get back to you on that.

**_Review, please._**


	16. What Can Happen in a Week

I _love _cliffhangers. The reaction is beautiful.

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

"Ooh. You might want to get Katniss, liar."

"Why...? And I wish you'd stop calling me that, Johanna."

"He's waking up."

"What?"

"He's _waking _up. It doesn't take an enormous amount of intelligence to comprehend that. Come on. Keep up with me here."

"Oh! Katniss is going to shoot through the roof – oh, Katniss! _Katniss_!"

"Peeta, just you wait. This is what you get for being asleep for days. You should have paid more attention and not gotten yourself knocked out. She's going to freak on you. Oh, look. Speak of the devil."

"Peeta! Peeta, wake up. Are you awake?"

"Katniss, you need to _relax_. He'll be up in a second. You have to be patient."

"I've been patient for almost a week, Johanna. Allow me to be mentally unstable for a few seconds."

"Katniss... come on. Breathe."

My eyes open. A bunch of blurred faces mesh in front of me. The one closest comes into focus first. I like that face, I think. I remember liking that face. I mumble weakly, "Kat?"

"Peeta!" she cries. "It doesn't take much to knock you out, does it?"

I smile weakly. "Why? What happened?" I look around at the faces – I recognize most of them. Katniss, Lira, Rue. Then that's Johanna... and Haymitch... and that... well, that man, I don't know. He's very handsome, to be honest. He has sea-green eyes, bronze hair, and a celebrity sort of look to him. I just can't quite put a name to him, yet. I know he's famous, though.

"You got hit," says Katniss, clinging to my hand. "During the Four invasion, when we were trying to get to Finnick, remember?"

That's his name. Finnick Odair.

"Right," I murmur. "I've been out... nearly a week?"

Rue nods, anxious look on her face. "Yeah. Katniss has been worried sick."

"Oh?" I say, still tired just from talking. "Just Katniss? I love to see how much you all care." I wonder if I'm just imagining that desperate grip around my fingers or if it's truly there.

Johanna rolls her eyes. "We're glad you're not perpetually asleep, Soldier Mellark. There."

"We got Finnick?" I say.

"Nice to meet you, Peeta," he says, smiling a smile that I'm sure makes all the ladies swoon.

"Same to you." I look to Katniss. "How's your family? What have they said about mine?"

For the first time, Katniss slows down. She hesitates. "You know, we should let you rest before loading all this week's information into your head. The doctor's going to come soon."

I squeeze her fingers as tightly as I can. A wordless request.

She smiles, making my heart beat quickly. "I'll stay."

Okay, no. _Now _my heart is drumming fast. Is this what it takes to get Katniss to like you? Get knocked out? I need to get concussed more often.

"Good," I mumble, sinking back into the pillows.

"We'll send the doctor in," says Haymitch. "Come on, everyone."

Katniss sits on the edge of my bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Headache. I can't feel my legs. Uh..." My eyes flutter. "Drowsy."

She smooths the hair on my forehead. I freeze at the feeling of her fingers skimming my skin. I stare up at her, somewhat awed – hoping my face doesn't betray me. She whispers, "We were so scared. I mean, I got Finnick – and his, uh, friend, Annie Cresta – but I didn't see you get hit. Then we were in the hovercraft, and you weren't responding..." She looks genuinely afraid. "You didn't just get hit over the head, you know; they kicked you around a few times before Lira butted in."

I'm almost embarrassed. "Oh."

"It's okay," she says, noting my heated cheeks. "It could have happened to anyone."

"Hey, Katniss."

She and I both look to the door, and it takes a while for me to realize that the person standing in the doorway shouldn't be here right now because he should be elsewhere.

Gale's eyebrows crease. "How are you, brother?"

"Okay..." I say, raising my brows. "What are you doing... why are you..."

"It's a long story, Peeta," Katniss interrupts. "We'll tell you the whole thing when you're recovered, okay?"

"You haven't told him, yet?" Gale mutters.

Katniss sighs. "He's sick enough as it is, Gale."

"I'm still here," I remind them.

She squeezes my hand. "Trust me. You won't take it well."

"None of us did." Gale crosses his arms, sighing. "Hey, look, I just wanted to see that you were all right, Peeta. They'll be glad to know you're awake."

"Who?" I ask. Everyone I know in Thirteen – basically – has already been in my room. Boggs and the president don't really count.

Katniss shoots him a dirty look. I can read it easily: _Shut up, right now. You're bordering on the things-that-must-not-be-said._

Gale shakes his head. "You'll find out in a second, okay?"

When he leaves, I look at Katniss. "Tell me."

"No." She shakes her head. "_Later_."

You know what? Fine. So long as she gets to hold my hand.

...

As soon as the doctor releases me, I'm in Command. I mean, really... how long does it take? I tap my foot impatiently – the only person in the room with me is some stony-faced soldier whose face and name I don't know. Where is Katniss? Or Lira? Or Rue? Or even Gale? I turn around sharply as the doors open. The president, Boggs, Katniss, and Rue stride in. Katniss and Rue smile upon seeing me and take their seats on either side of me.

Boggs hits a button on the remote.

I recognize the setting of the scene playing on the screen: it's District Four. And yes, that's... Katniss. What?

"Soldier Everdeen," says President Coin evenly, "was on screens all over the Capitol."

Then, everything in Four explodes.

_What_?

"She is believed to be dead. President Snow advertises her to be a girl from District Twelve of the rebellion who tried – with very obvious great effort – to defy the authority, and paid her price for it," says President Coin. "Soldier Everdeen is the nameless face of the rebellion."

"How is Four?" I ask.

"They're fine. It was only that area of the district that was damaged. We have people helping them. We can, now that they're a full-out rebellion happening," says President Coin. But I have this weird feeling that maybe she hasn't gotten to the worst part yet.

I frown. "Go on..."

"They know her face because they've seen it before." President Coin crosses her arms. For the first time ever, I think she looks a bit worried. Boggs presses another button. It takes a while for the scene to come into focus. It's District Twelve.

The Victory Tour. I look around at the raggedy faces of all my friends and neighbors. It's no wonder that the golden mockingjay pin stands out... I can't believe how much so. I don't know if it's because I already knew it was there or because it truly does pop out on screen, but either way, there is a bad feeling bubbling in me. Boggs skips ahead to the gesture the entire District made to Rue – right after her rebellious speech. Three middle fingers of your left hand to your lips, then held out.

"Peeta," President Coin says, and I'm startled from the first-name usage, "what does the Capitol do to people who show off signs of rebellion? _Especially _since there's been no real threat of a revolution in seventy-five years?"

Gale's here. Katniss won't tell me. I won't like it. None of us did. Gale's here. _They'll be happy to hear that you're awake_. My family will be happy to hear that I'm awake. _My family _is here.

And they're not here by personal request.

I grip my armrests. "Wait, what -"

"Peeta," Katniss whispers, "there is no District Twelve anymore."

I have never seen her look so vulnerable than in this District, honestly.

Katniss hurries on in a rush, as if afraid that I won't listen. "As soon as they heard I was 'dead', the electricity in Twelve was cut, the televisions went black... and then everything went dead. In fifteen minutes the bombs started coming. Gale got Madge and your brothers to help evacuate everyone to the Meadow, but... that was eight thousand people, Peeta. There wasn't nearly enough time. Some of them didn't survive. It was only lucky that District Thirteen got news of it quickly... there were injuries and hungry people and..."

"But they're safe. Most of them," I say desperately.

She nods. "Most of them are safe. Your mother and father are here. And Tom and Eddy..."

"That's... good," I say, still dazed. I have to think, though. What about all my other friends? Are _they _alive? The frozen image of the Victory Tour remains on the screen. How many of them are dead?

President Coin sighs, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Okay, go." I imagine her saying what she would be too ashamed to admit: Go away. Talking about this depresses me.

I'm still not totally sane as Katniss leads me through Thirteen. I think we're going to my family's compartment. I think that's what she said. Dead. Dead. Gone. There. Is. No. District. Twelve. My home. It's gone. The Capitol. Rebellion. I _can't think _properly. I am so lost. I try to focus on my breathing, counting the inhales.

The second the compartment doors open, she comes in to hug me. My instinctive reaction is to push this woman away, though. I realize who she is after two seconds. "Ma."

"Peeta, oh, are you all right?" Ma shoots Katniss a look of contempt. "How are you, Peeta? Answer me!" She blames Katniss. She blames Katniss for me running away, for me getting hurt.

I meet her eyes. I look over her shoulder. "Tom, Eddy. Dad. Are you all right?"

Ma bites her lip. Good. She ought to feel guilty.

"We're fine. You're the one who's been knocked out for days, brother," says Tom, smiling. I step around Ma to talk to them. "You still going to be in Katniss and Rue's compartment, by the way? Or are you joining us?"

I look him in the eye and smirk. He laughs a little. We both know that we'd pick any other compartment than the one with Ma in it.

"You'll be staying here, of course," Ma announces.

I turn around to her and glare. "I don't think that's for you to decide. And anyway, it's going to be crowded in here." I don't feel like mentioning it, but I don't like the idea of Katniss, Rue, and their nightmares being left alone, either.

Ma frowns. "Why are you so angry with me, Peeta? What have I done wrong?"

"None of this is Katniss' fault," I say coldly.

"I never said it -"

My voice rises: "Then stop treating her like dirt beneath your boot! She is my _friend_, and you need to deal with that! District Twelve is not her fault! Me running away is not her fault! I made my choices, Ma. And Katniss is one of the better ones."

Ma seems to tremble. "Right."

I sigh. "I'm sorry, Ma. But look, I just can't... I _hate _when you look at Katniss like that, okay? It isn't fair. None of this was her choice."

"Of course."

Katniss clears her throat quietly. "Peeta? I'll be in the compartment, okay?"

"Yeah, I'm coming with you," I say. "I'm done here."

I can deal with them later.

* * *

_**Reviews gets you free virtual cookies! And hot chocolate.**_


	17. People People

As per **Analyn Lana Ruse**'s request :) I'm not exactly sure if this is what you meant, but I tried to force Peeta into situations where has to analyze his infatuation. :P

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**

* * *

**

"You know they plan on going on with the Quell?"

It's night-time. Katniss huddles on her bed, knees pulled up to her chest. Rue's in the bathroom; Katniss and I are waiting for her to finish so that we can get ready for bed, too. I sit on the edge of Katniss' bunk, listening to her. Nowadays I see her worried all the time.

She bites her lip and continues, "Even without Twelve, they'll go on – just Districts One to Eleven will participate, obviously. The rules are horrible... all immediate family of tributes, young and old. They told me in Command this morning. Well, they just told me and Lira..."

I blink. "Wait. That means -"

She nods, toes poking out of the blanket and twiddling. "Rue's family included... and Finnick's, and Beetee's, and... Cecelia's... well, I don't even know if they have any family left, honestly. Haymitch doesn't." Sighing, Katniss leans her head back. It thumps against the wall quietly. "I wish we could evacuate them all..."

"They can't just let this happen," I say. "The rebels, I mean." I can't even imagine what it would be like. To have survived the Games, _think _it's all over – aside from Victory Tour, I guess. But then to have Tom or Eddy or Dad or even Ma being forced into the Games... the idea of it is making me sweat.

"Yeah, they're not planning on it," says Katniss, looking back at me. "Coin and Boggs told us that they're planning to bust them out of the arena. Beetee's working with some of the District Three rebels..." Her sentence trails off, as if she's forgotten what she wants to talk about. There is a lot to think about, after all – who are we busting out? Who are we telling? How do we do it?

We're already on full-scale rebellion, so the work's just beginning.

How did I get myself into this mess?

We sit there quietly for a long time. I listen to her breathing, to the sounds of people walking outside our compartment, to the slightest shuffle. Katniss, mostly. Her breathing. I ask, "Do you ever wonder what a happy life truly is like?"

"I'm beginning to think my life before was a happy life, compared to now," Katniss says. Then, she looks at me. Her smile is feeble. "Well, _now-_now isn't too bad. It's just the whole home being obliterated thing that's throwing me off." Well, well. Humor? Where is this girl coming from?

I smile. "Come here." I don't really think I'm offering the hug because she looks like she needs it – even though she does. Right now, I think it's me who wants the hug.

Surprisingly willing, Katniss crawls over and huddles in my arms. I'm beginning to get used to this feeling, and it bothers me. What happens when Katniss refuses for me to come close to her, let alone hold her like this? I bite back a sigh and decide I'll take this for all its worth; she leans against me, tucking her head under my chin. If we were elsewhere, I'd say she's trying to make Gale jealous, but Gale's not here. I don't understand this girl. Does she like me or not? And if she _does _like me, _why_? Why is she letting herself?

I guess I shouldn't complain, though.

Rue comes in. She sees us and smiles. "I would have knocked, but you know." Well, yes, it's her room, too.

Katniss smiles. "Come join in, Rue." Unhesitatingly Rue puts her things aside and joins in the hug.

I ruffle Rue's hair. "I am such a lucky man."

"Careful, Peeta," says Katniss, escaping. It's her turn to shower. "People might get the wrong idea of you."

Teasingly I give her a hit. "Go away."

Katniss smiles. "Sure." She grabs her towel and pajamas before leaving the room.

Rue gives me a smirk.

"What?" I ask.

She giggles. "Nothing."

"_What_?" I repeat.

"Katniss and Peeta, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," sings Rue.

Great. Just what I need. Despite myself, I _am _smiling, though. Still, I say, "Rue..."

"First comes love, second comes -"

"Rue!"

"- marriage, then comes Peeta with a -"

"_Rue_!"

"- baby carriage!" Rue grins wickedly at me. I ignore her, rolling my eyes. "Come on, Lover Boy. Are you ever going to make a move? She might be waiting for _you_, you know."

I look out the door where Katniss has just exited. "I doubt that." Katniss Everdeen, waiting for me? Does my message not come across well enough? How is it not obvious that I care about her? Why can't she just tell me if she _does _care for me that way?

"Then how are you ever going to find out?" asks Rue. "If you two keep waiting for each other then nothing's going to happen."

"How do you know she's waiting for me?" I ask.

"I don't. And neither do you."

I wrinkle my nose. "Have you seen how she treats Gale now? I don't want that to happen to us. I'd rather she 'make the move', Rue."

"Fine," says Rue, sighing. She crawls back over to me for one last hug. I press my lips to the crown of her head before she pulls away. "'night-night, Peeta."

As she climbs up the ladder into her bed, I murmur, "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

…

I don't peg myself a matchmaker. After all, I don't exactly have sufficient experience in the field. The girl I've loved since I was in kindergarten wants nothing to do with me – well, Katniss wants nothing to do with the opposite sex, so I guess it's not too bad. Anyway, back to the point: I can't exactly see relationships between people, or make them stronger. I get people, but not their relationships. So I'm not exactly sure _what _I see when I see Lira getting all giggly around Gale.

And Gale Hawthorne, by some incomprehensible miracle, is tolerating it. Well, he's _laughing_, and telling her _jokes_, and... I... well, I don't know, honestly.

After Gale leaves to actually do some work (we're wasting time in training), Lira jumps up and skips over to me. She plops down on the ground beside where I'm sitting. I raise a brow at her and smirk. "You like him?"

Totally unabashed, she leans closer and says in a low murmur, "You like Katniss?"

"Oh." I frown. "Touché."

Lira smiles. "And about the only person who can't realize it, naturally, is Katniss. I get the feeling she's naïve about most boys, though."

"Lira," I say slowly, "I hope you can guess that Gale likes Katniss. He might just be using you to make her jealous."

"Oh," says Lira, leaning back and shrugging nonchalantly. "I know. It's been done before. By this kid. I think you know him. He's blonde, has blue eyes, from Twelve, son of a baker, totally infatuated with this girl who he's known since kindergarten, sitting right next to me..."

"You know, your perception tends to be a pain."

Lira smiles. "I just get people, Peeta. It's what you and I have in common." She sighs. "But, anyway, I do get that Gale's just using me. On the bright side, I think she likes you better, so Gale's efforts are pretty much useless. Oh, and I'm _aware _that he's using me, which is good. Prevents heartbreak."

"She likes me better?" I ask doubtfully.

"Sure. He said so himself," says Lira, eyes flickering over to Gale and Katniss on the other side of the room, where they're assembling guns. "When he walked in on the two of you in the hospital after you got knocked out? He said she'd never touched him like that... _oh_, that sounded dirty. Pretend I didn't say that."

I laugh. "Well, by Katniss standards, it's probably true."

Smiling a little, Lira says, "_And _it's weird, since they've been friends for way longer, and they spent so much time together. More than what you two have been through – even if it's been a lot. So, Peeta, in case you've been doubting yourself, you're clearly special to Miss 'niss..."

I groan, cutting her off. "You've been talking to my brother."

"He's funny."

I roll my eyes. "In another world. Sure."

"Back to the point!" says Lira. "Why don't you do some elaborating for me? I mean, honestly. You've hardly ever talked to her until a few months ago, right?"

I nod.

"Then why are you so hung up on her?" she presses. "What was so amazing about this girl, who isn't exactly someone I'd choose to hang out with?"

I bite my lip. "Do I need a reason?"

"_Yes_."

I sigh. "I guess... she comes off that way to most people, because that's what she believes. She thinks she's heartless, but I don't buy that. I mean, she's fed her family almost entirely own her own for five years. When Katniss cares about something, she _really _cares about it. That's the difference between her and everybody else, Lira. There is rarely an in between when it comes to her."

"So... on which extreme are you?" Lira asks slyly.

Laughing, I shake my head. "Okay, fine. Maybe there _is _an in between."

"Oh, don't say that. For all you know, she _does _love you. Maybe just not in the romantic way," Lira says.

"That's true." I lean back. "What about you, Lira? What do you like about Gale, huh?"

There is a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I like a challenge."

I burst out laughing. "Oh."

"Yeah. Don't be offended, Peeta. You're plenty handsome." Then, she looks over to Gale, and her expression softens. "And anyway, I have a feeling he needs someone. He's kissed Katniss, hasn't he? It's why Katniss acts like that around him."

I look to Katniss and Gale. To any other person, they look no different, but I guess Lira can pick up on it. I've seen it, too. The distance between them seems measured. When their skin comes close to touching, Katniss pulls back. It's kind of heartbreaking, even from my perspective.

"Funny you should notice," I murmur.

"That's why you're not making a move, isn't it?" she asks. "You're scared that's what's going to happen between you and her."

I stare at her. "Question."

"Yeah?"

"Did Beetee invent some sort of inter-mind communication device? Because I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of my head. It's a private place, you know."

Lira laughs, leaning her shoulder against me in a friendly, affectionate sort of way. I'm strangely not bothered. "No. But you, Peeta, and me... we're people people."

"People people?"

"People person," she reminds me. "Except plural, so people people."

I smile, then look to Katniss. I study her face – her brows furrowed in concentration, fingers moving quickly over the gun parts, chewing on the lower corner of her lip. Her braid's gotten messy, so there are flyaway strands all over her head. She throws the braid over her shoulder, but the stray locks still get in her eyes.

"If I'm such a people person, Lira, then why is it I'm so afraid to tell her I love her?" I whisper, wanting so badly to go right up to her and fix that hair. Tell her how important she is to me, for reasons that I still find unfathomable. I care about her. But I've hardly known her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lira smiling sadly. She opens her mouth to respond, but -

"Hunt! Mellark! Back to work!"

Lira puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Back to work, Mellark," she says.

I nod, exhaling. "Back to work."

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**_Review gets you a million dollars! (If you give me a _**really really good **_one, you get a gazillion dollars.)_**


	18. Lovesick

Just a reminder to anyone who's forgotten... ;) daily updates are ending on **Sunday**. There _may _be an update the following week, but I've definitely had more time to write this week than I'll have next week. :)

I'm recycling some of my own words here. :P You get points if you recognize where it's from/what the line is!

By the way, it's kind of strange how the reviews become a lot better when I offer virtual bribes haha. Oh, well. Whatever works!

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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There's something worth envying when it comes to Finnick Odair and his... girlfriend, Annie Cresta. They never let go of one another. I think of all the admirers that Finnick has in the Capitol... and the love of his life turns out to be this quiet, slightly mentally "unstable" (Katniss' word, not mine) girl from District Four. She's pretty, yes, but even then she's not beautiful. Smiling as I watch the two of them eat together during dinner, I realize that she's probably a goddess in Finnick's eyes.

"It's a happy sight, isn't it?" Lira asks, taking her seat next to me.

I nod.

"Makes me kind of jealous."

Again, I nod. "Same with me..."

"That could be you, Peeta," Lira whispers, voice sly and smooth. "That handsome young man could be you, and that girl could be Katniss. Think about it!"

For a moment I let the image overtake me. Me in Finnick's place, Katniss in Annie's... our hands entwined, never letting go. The pleasure of knowing that she is mine and solely mine, that Katniss Everdeen loves _me _as I have loved her since –

Then I shake my head. "Liar, stop tempting me."

Lira scowls. "You've been talking to Johanna."

Johanna is convinced that the first syllable of Lira's name sounds like "liar". And it does, if you warp it a bit. Lira. Lira. Lira. "Lir", like "lyre".

I give her a grin. "That's what you get for tempting me... and it is a good idea, Lira. But no. I'm not letting you drive me to that, and you know it.."

"Such a shame," Lira murmurs as a few more of our friends come along. Katniss sits on my other side, Gale sits on _her _other side. Across from us, Rue, Johanna, Tom, and Eddy sit down. Prim comes along soon after, leaving Mrs. Everdeen at the table full of the hospital workers. She sits next to Rue. The likenesses between them are striking, especially when they sit next to each other.

"What's a shame, Liar?" Johanna asks. There is a loud bump under the table, and although Johanna doesn't look remotely in pain, I know that Lira kicked her.

Together, Lira and I say in response, "Nothing."

Gale and Katniss look at us suspiciously.

Whoops.

"Tom," says Katniss, and she begins to talking about something that happened in some nuclear class earlier that day.

The image of Katniss and me is bothering me even more, now; it's even worse because she's next to me. Her body is hardly an inch away from mine, and her warmth radiates off her. It bothers me. I'm tempted to "make a move" like Lira and Rue have suggested, but again I remind myself of Katniss and Gale and how Katniss can never look at him the same way anymore. How am I going to live with that?

Suddenly, I stand up, disrupting conversation. I flush.

"Peeta?" Katniss says. "What's wrong?"

Lira looks up curiously at me. I think she knows. She, of all people, would know.

"Nothing," I say stiffly, my breathing uneven. "I – I have to go."

"Peeta/?" says Lira. Her voice sounds distant and unreachable, when she's really just a foot away from me.

"Later." I shake my head. I walk quickly over to the tray disposal. I run a hand through my hair after letting go of the tray, allowing one short, stealthy glance to my friends – they're all still looking at me, confused. Frankly, so am I.

I've known that girl for over ten years. I have never felt this way before. I've never felt so tempted, so weak, so scared, so confused. I have never been so horrified of losing what little I have with her already, but I'm also so impatient; I can't stand her not knowing.

Rue's voice replays in my head, loud, clear, and taunting:

_Come on, Lover Boy. Are you ever going to make a move?_

...

The weird thing about Mrs. Everdeen and her daughter is that they look nothing alike. They are nothing alike. Yet, there is something disconcerting about Katniss Everdeen's mother that reminds me of the same uncomfortable feeling I get around Katniss. "Peeta?"

Sitting in one of the spare rooms of Thirteen, it's a wonder that she's found me. "Hi."

She smiles. "How are you? I saw you at lunch today..."

"Nothing happened," I say, a bit too hastily.

"Peeta, it's no good to lie to me about that. I know what it's like to be in love. And to be in love with someone who no one understands _why _you're in love with them," says Mrs. Everdeen wistfully. "And, sometimes, neither do you."

I look up at her, eyes wide.

"Sound familiar?" She chuckles. "Peeta, my husband had a voice that the birds stopped to listen to, too."

"I remember," I say, realizing that I _do _remember. I remember his amazing voice, high and clear and beautiful. It was hereditary, apparently.

Mrs. Everdeen smiles at me. "It will get better."

"How could it possibly?" I ask, throat dry. "Mr. Everdeen... he didn't... Katniss refuses to..."

"I know, I know. But I lost her love once, Peeta. For years, she refused to accept anything from me. Now, that's changed... even if just a little," she says. "If that can happen, she can realize how much she loves you."

"What about Gale?"

Mrs. Everdeen hesitates. Sighs. "They're bonded by mutual need, Peeta. Well, that's what bonded them first – now, though... all that's bonding them are all those years that they needed each other. She does love him -"

I nod. "She told him so. In front of me."

"In front of you?" says Mrs. Everdeen, raising a brow. "Well."

I sigh. "It's just... my patience. That's the only problem... well, that, and it seems like everyone knows, and everyone just wants me to make a move. So it's others' impatience that's getting on my nerves, too, you know?"

"Don't listen to them," she advises. "Just get away like this whenever they get on your nerves again."

Nodding, I say, "Right. Yeah."

"Come on, Peeta. Go back to your compartment. You look like a mess."

Right. Back to my compartment, where Katniss is waiting? I don't complain, though, and let her pull me up. Like the time I'd been informed that my home had been annihilated while I'd been knocked out for a week, I feel rather dazed, as though I'd been drugged. My thoughts are in a swirl of confusion. When the doors open in front of me, Katniss and Lira and Gale and the rest of them are in my compartment.

I kind of want to bolt.

"Peeta," says Katniss suddenly. "We were worried about you."

"I'm fine." Contrary to that, though, I collapse onto my bed, pulling the covers over my head.

"Peeta?" I feel weight and warmth to my right. Someone's sitting on my bed. Katniss. I peek out my covers. She looks genuinely worried. She smiles a little. "What's going on?"

I let out a disoriented little grunt. "Nothing."

Again, she says my name, pulling the covers away from my face: "Peeta. You can tell us anything, okay?"

"Okay," I mumble.

Then – oh, goodness – in front of _everyone_, she brushes the hair away from my forehead. "You seem stressed. Do you want us to leave?"

Well, I want most of them to leave.

"Hey, brother," says Tom, moving over to peer down at me, "I'll get you some hot chocolate from some of the ladies in the kitchens. And a cookie. Okay?"

I smile. "You know me well, brother."

"Brother," Tom says loudly, "come with me." He seizes Eddy, pulling them away. So all that remains are Katniss, Gale, Lira, and Rue.

"There's something that you're not telling us," Katniss murmurs, looking at me with a frown.

_No, just you_.

I wonder if I'm catching something. Maybe I'm getting sick. Or stressed. Or both. I sigh. I remember certain days at school: classmates making out in corners. Boys being grossly lovesick over their girlfriends before breaking hearts the next day. How some of my female friends had been reduced to tears because of boys: boys who'd chosen other girls, boys who rejected them, boys who mocked them. Is this what it was like to be them? To be so wrapped up, almost pathetically, in love?

"Rest," she says, smoothing my hair over again. "I'll talk to Coin, get her to excuse you from training today, okay? You seem exhausted."

Maybe I am. I yawn convincingly. I'd love to take a break.

Later, when Tom and Eddy (somehow) get me hot cocoa and a cookie (I imagine Tom charmed some of the younger cooks in the kitchens), they all have to leave. Katniss doesn't, though. "They won't mind if I skip," she says, rolling her eyes.

She's staying. For me.

Sitting cross-legged opposite me, she watches as I nibble on my cookie. "Why aren't you telling me what's bothering you, Peeta? I mean, you always listen to _me_. It's my turn. Why won't you let me be the good friend?"

I smile. "Because maybe I'm the listening type, not the talking."

"Tell me," she insists, leaning forward.

I hesitate.

An idea just came to me.

"Well..." I take a deep breath. "There's this girl. I... really, really, like her. But..." My sentence trails off. In Katniss' eyes, that should be enough.

I watch her expression. It is devoid of any reaction. Mostly. I look closely, at her slightly widened eyes, her teeth biting her lower lip just the slightest, the small gulp. What is this supposed to mean? "Oh," she whispers. "I see. It's a girl problem."

I laugh humorlessly. "Yes. A girl problem."

"Why not just get it over with?" she asks tonelessly. "Just tell her you like her."

"Because she won't take it the right way. I know her."

Katniss sighs. "Hm. Why would she take it the wrong way?"

"She doesn't welcome love." My face is hot. My heart is thumping a mile a minute. What am I _doing_?

Suddenly, she turns to me. "What?"

"She... she's not the liking kind," I say slowly. "She..." I forget what I wanted to say, so I fall silent.

"She what?" Katniss presses.

I close my eyes. I am so stupid. I am so close to losing one of my best friends. What am I doing? What am I doing? Why did I do it? I am so, so, so, so stupid. "Nothing."

"Tell me!" she says, voice full of authority.

"It's not important," I insist, leaning back on my pillow tiredly. "Katniss, please, just leave it."

"But..." I hear her heavy sigh. "All right. Go on, sleep. I'll be here if you need me."

I watch as she stands next to my bed, ready to go. "Wait," I whisper. "Katniss? Will you sing for me?"

Katniss turns around to me. For an embarrassing second, I think that maybe she'll decline, but then she moves back closer to my head and nods. "Okay."

I sink into my pillow, looking up at her as she sits down next to my body. Her fingers brush over my forehead – a movement that feels oddly familiar, now – and her mouth opens. From that moment, there are only few things I manage to process...

Her voice... the lyrics, which sing of love, ironically... and then, one last time before I drift off, I stare up into her face – that face of the girl I love – and lose myself in the warm embrace of another world: dream world, composed of nothing but this girl and the voices of angels.

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_**Review, please! (Ummm... if I get really nice reviews, I might update four times over Saturday and Sunday? :D That's a huge might, but it's a legit offer haha. Better than a virtual large amount of money and/or cookies/hot chocolate.)**_


	19. As Lovely as the Primrose

Okay, definitely not four this weekend. Maybe three. But not four. Haha. No. Maybe four. :P I haven't figured it out.

By the way, I know a lot of you have read I Am Strong. If you haven't, please read it? :D Pretty, pretty, please? (It's my other fic, in case you didn't know.)

Okay, **uriah cullen**, you can have your Prim. ^_^

Short one! Sorryyyy. :(

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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Girls are such a different species. I love a lot of them – don't get me wrong – but they're so... different. I guess that's the point, but... oh, whatever.

It's been a while since I did that whole big brother thing with Prim, so I decide to visit her with Katniss. I'm sure we'll find some way to entertain ourselves. When she sees her sister and me, she rushes up to greet the both of us, letting me carry her. I see a flicker of jealousy on Katniss' face, but it's understandable that Prim seems more excited to see me; she's seen Katniss recently. I haven't, save for meals.

We end up sitting on Prim's bunk, with her on my lap and Katniss sitting beside us, her legs folded beneath her. "How are you doing?" I ask, letting Prim curl up comfortably. I look at her angelic face – a face as fresh as a rain drop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named – and muse on how easy it is to like this little girl.

Prim smiles. "I like it here. I mean... it feels... safer." Then, her face lights up with a smile as she informs us, "They're training me to become a doctor, you know."

"Of course they are," says Katniss, letting Prim hold her hand. Katniss is getting more open about that, I've noticed. "They'd be stupid not to."

"Well, they're thinking about it," Prim says. "They've been watching me when I help out at the hospital. I'm taking some medic courses. It's some of the easy stuff – the stuff I know a lot of from home – but it's still plenty to learn." It's amazing to see how timidly humble she gets when she says this. The enthusiasm is just threatening to burst out. It's so nice to see people being passionate about something.

I stroke her hair and smile, looking at her with a bit of an absent expression. I consider it. The idea makes me happy. "Dr. Primrose Everdeen," I say; a grin comes to her face when she hears it, as though hearing the title makes the concept of it all the more real. "Imagine. It could all be possible once we're out of here. Dr. Primrose. Dr. Everdeen."

Still smiling, she nods. "I like the sound of it."

I can't think of anything more perfect than for Prim to become a doctor. Such an innocent, compassionate soul can fit much elsewhere. It's a job where the pros outweigh the cons, by far... I can imagine Prim working as a doctor. So easily. She's a people person, too, but she's the _right _kind of people person.

I think of how trapped we are in this District – this country – and suddenly, I want more than anything to let Primrose Everdeen have that future.

"We'll get you there," Katniss murmurs, poking her playfully. "Dr. Everdeen."

Prim leans against me. She looks out the window where Buttercup comes and goes and whispers, "There's something else I wish I could do, you know."

I look at her, fully interested. "Do tell."

"Don't you wish, sometimes, Katniss... that it'd be safe to have kids?" Prim says, voice still low. "To be happy? To marry and have kids and have a family without having to worry about the reaping?"

Katniss looks down at her lap, biting her lip and nodding. "Of course I wish that."

"I want that," says Prim. "To have a _normal _life. No more starving and hiding and rebellion. I just want _simple_."

I hug her, laughing quietly. "'Simple'." I think about Katniss and how, even if there were no corrupt Capitol, life might still be difficult anyway. Well, it'd be easier, certainly, but...

The Everdeen girls and I continue talking for a long time. Almost all through Reflection time, in fact. It's been such a long time since I've just sat down and had a real conversation with these girls. It makes me almost feel like I'm back home, when everything wasn't simple but simpler, which seems good enough now.

When Katniss leaves to go to the bathroom, Prim apprehends me with a look.

"What?" I ask, feeling nervous from her un-Prim-like look. "What did I do?"

"Do you _realize_," she says, crossing her arms, "how much I've put it into you and Katniss?"

"Me and Katniss?" I repeat, dumbfounded.

Prim nods, still scowling. I almost feel like laughing, but that's inappropriate. It is funny to see her so... so like Katniss, though. It doesn't fit her. She's not usually frustrated. "_I _convinced her to give you a chance, you know. Of course, a lot of it is things you do yourself – like being really nice to me, which I appreciate, thanks. That makes her like you, you know? She likes people who are nice to me. I know that... but come _on_, Peeta. You have to do better than what you're doing now, which is... like... nothing."

My jaw drops.

"She loves you," she says sincerely. "She just doesn't know it yet."

"I told her I had girl problems, a few days ago," I confide in her. "She didn't even care."

Prim hits me. It doesn't hurt, but still. I stare at her in disbelief. "She's _jealous_, you – you – oh, Peeta. She thinks you like Lira."

"Oh." I flinch. "Whoops."

She giggles. "And they call you a people person. You can't even tell if she likes you or not."

"Has she _said _these things to you?" I say, heart hammering.

She's hesitating.

I sigh, not from frustration or anything, but rather from disappointment that Katniss hasn't actually _told _Prim these things. "Come on, Prim. You know better than to think I'm going to risk what I have with her," I say gently. Again, I let out a heavy breath – she looks disappointed. "You really want this, don't you?"

Her voice is soft and sad when she murmurs, "Just as much as you do."

I smile, kissing her forehead. I remember something Katniss called her earlier and decide I use it too: "I doubt that, little duck."

"I know you love her," she whispers. "I've seen how you look at her."

"One day," I say helplessly. I wonder if this is what Katniss feels all the time. I know that Prim is the only person who can guilt-trip her like this.

"Why wait?" asks Prim. "Especially when..."

She doesn't say anything, but the two of us both know what she wanted to say, because the horrifying idea of it has been bugging us in the back of our heads for weeks now. I don't want to think about it, but the thought forces ahead into my mind anyway: _Especially when we're so at risk, when we're so unsafe, when one of you could die._

For a frightening moment, I imagine everything, _everything _lost – Tom, Eddy, Dad, Ma, Prim, Mrs. Everdeen – my breath gets caught in my throat, and for a heart-stopping moment my brain imagines the terror of Katniss' icy, bloodless, motionless body. I imagine her callused fingers never brushing hair away from my forehead again, never squeezing my own hand when she gets extremely nervous; I imagine sound never escaping her lips anymore. I imagine my world to be devoid of her beautiful voice: high and clear, like her father's, and a small spasm runs through me.

"Peeta?" says Prim, startled.

"My – my –" Voice cracking, I stop for a moment and clear my throat. "My imagination ran away from me for a second."

Prim smiles. "Don't worry, Peeta." She squeezes my hand, as if guessing what frightening image my imagination had come up with. "We'll be fine."

I smile back, studying her. What a sad, sad, place the world would be without Primrose Everdeen. "Of course we will. We'll be all right."

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_**Review, guys! Oh, and can you tell me if you'd like Peeta's POV to keep on going past the twentieth chapter, please? ^_^**_


	20. Stay Alive For Once, Peeta

Haha. I seem to be filling in a lot of requests.

This request is, "update again tonight, please?" (Sure, **writergal24**. :P) It's another short one, but put two and two together? xD AND ANYWAY, it's an update. It should make you happyishsortof.

Also, after the twentieth chapter, I'll be alternating every two chapters. So, twenty-one and twenty-two are Katniss, twenty-three and twenty-four are Peeta. :) So on and so forth. (Part of chapter twenty-one will be Peeta, though. You'll see why tomorrow.)

**I don't own the Hunger Games. (This does contain some lines from **_**Mockingjay**_**, though. ^_^)**

* * *

The dead nameless face of the rebellion is about to be resurrected. Oh, I can picture the Districts rejoicing already: the true martyr, the mockingjay, the rebellion, is alive! Squad 451 – the Airtime Assault team, a special unit of sharpshooters – is headed to the Capitol.

The "Star Squad" (the on-screen faces of the rebellion) is composed of Finnick Odair, Johanna Mason, Katniss Everdeen, Gale Hawthorne, Lira Hunt, yours truly, as well as some others. Perhaps to make up for the overwhelming amount of young people on the Star Squad ("it makes for better television, after all," Plutarch said), we have Mitchell and Homes, two older guys with flawless aim. Boggs is our Commander. Jackson, a middle-aged lady with a sharp eye, is his Second-in-Command.

I hadn't told my family much. Even Katniss hadn't. We definitely hadn't told them that the mission was to clear the Capitol of pods, which mirror the weapons in the arena.

I'm sure Ma would've taken _that _well...

It's a shame. We probably missed out on seeing some first-rate dirty looks.

The rebel encampment takes a few days of travel to get to. This area has been secured for over a week. Rebels pushed out the Peacekepers, losing hundreds of lives in the process. The Capitol forces fell back and have regrouped farther into the city. Between us and them lie the booby-trapped streets, empty and inviting. Each one will need to be swept of pods before we can advance.

"You know," Gale says to me on the third day, "being a soldier is a bore."

Lira snorts. "You know, I'd ask you not to jinx it, but I kind of want you to." She falls onto the ground next to us. "I've looked forward to being a real soldier since I was little kid..."

"I am disillusioned," agrees Johanna, kicking a pebble.

Katniss and Finnick get out of their tents to join the discussion. "At least you three have been out doing some special sharpshooter stuff already," says Katniss darkly. She, Finnick, and Johanna have just been doing things for the purpose of the camera. We haven't seen the propos, but at the rate they're being filmed, the rebellion better be progressing stunningly.

Johanna inhales through her teeth. "I need... to... hurt... something."

Finnick spreads his hands. "Be my guest."

"I don't want to bring you home to Annie bruised," she says, jaw still set. "I am so _bored_." She falls onto the ground next to Lira, lying down on her back.

"You're not the only one, Jo," says Lira blandly.

"Let's play a game," says Finnick, straightening up and stretching his legs out in front of him. "Guess who."

"Seriously?" asks Johanna, giving him a look.

Finnick nods. "Go on. Yes or no questions only."

"Is it a boy?" I ask. Anything to break the boredom.

"Yes."

Lira jumps in next. "Is he here with us right now?"

"No."

"Is he good-looking?" asks Johanna, flipping over onto her stomach. I guess she changed her mind.

Finnick's face contorts. "Ugh. No. Definitely not."

Gale leans over to me. "It's 'cause he thinks everybody else is ugly compared to him."

"Watch it, Hawthorne," says Finnick. Then, he frowns. "Well..."

We laugh, attracting the looks of some of the soldiers just hanging around, too. Johanna says dryly, "Don't worry, Finnick. We're aware of your superior appearance. We are not worthy."

Katniss butts in. "Is he a friend of ours?"

"Hm..." Finnick pauses. "Yes."

"Is he a victor?" asks Katniss.

Finnick scowls.

"Haymitch." Katniss smirks.

Finnick glares. "That ruins the fun, you know. How'd you guess?"

Katniss flips over to her back. "I don't have many victor friends." Then, she adds thoughtfully, "Not many friends, at all." I'm about to interrupt, but then, _I'm _interrupted.

The six of us turn around, hearing something that grabs our attention. Boggs is on the phone, and his voice is rising slightly. "Yes... but you wanted them safe. Well, yes, but we're acting on your orders... usable product?" He sighs. "Of course. Yes."

He looks to us. We're all looking back at him already.

Boggs gives us a wry smile. "Well, kids, it's your lucky day."

"You're kidding," says Johanna, whole face lighting up.

So, today, a special street has been put aside for the Star Squad, especially for filming. Coin and Plutarch find the clips we've been sending in rather boring. They are not "usable product". The street that we're clearing of pods has some active ones, in fact. The crew wants to make everything a bit more exciting (and "usable") by adding smoke bombs and gunfire sound effects.

So, we suit up and head into what the audience will think is the heart of battle.

It's mostly boring. We have to blow out a bunch of windows. It's not exciting until Gale hits a pod, when we all have to take cover as a bunch of bullets fly past us or over our heads. The cameras are locked on Finnick, Johanna, and Katniss. Mostly Finnick. (We talked about it last night and said that it was because Finnick looked best on camera. He didn't deny it.)

The director stops us there, saying she needs some close up shots. We take turns reenacting our "taking cover". We have to be very serious. Very, very serious. But a lot of us aren't older than twenty-five, we haven't had a good laugh in days, and above all, we're not very good actors. It's hilarious to see all of us falling to the ground and grimacing, just being horrible at being climatic. (We're all laughing at Mitchell's attempt to project his idea of desperation, which involves teeth grinding and flaring nostrils. It's such a relief.)

But what _isn't _a relief is when one of the camera crew drops the roll of film they were holding. It rolls... keeps on rolling... and bumps against a crack in the road. It hits a bright orange paving stone.

Boggs looks between his holographic map ("Holo") and the roll of film suddenly yells, "Hit the deck!" And I don't get why.

I turn around. Too slowly.

It's a pod. It hit a pod. The roll of film hit a -

Then the bomb goes off.

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Well, you did request four updates this weekend ;)

**_Review, please! (Again.)_**


	21. Real or Not?

A note from Francie (**ihateturkeys**) to my readers:

Dear all you amazing readers of Jia's amazing story- If you read Jia's A/N from yesterday, you would know that she very kindly asked you to read her story (_this would be "I Am Strong"_). Well, as a (very) loyal reader since I subscribed at chapter 13 of the story in September, and still following the short stories now, I want to second that. Enough of sounding serious... You have to read it! It is a must! It is such an amazing story you'll wonder why it isn't a book already. You will fall in love with the characters (I am serious, many readers have asked for their own) and fall in love with the story. So pretty please read! Because you will thank Jia (and me) after you read it! Trust me!

:)

(Thanks, Francie. )

And, now, on to today's chapter. I want to see crazy fangirl reactions to this. (We do a lot of jumping around in this chapter.)

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

(Peeta POV)

Do you ever have those memories that are almost too hazy to be real? Those ones, from when you're really little, and you can hardly separate dreams from what actually happened? I have one of those... except I'm pretty sure it's a dream, because, well...

See, I got hurt from the impact of a bomb.

"Uncle! Gale! Katniss! It's _Peeta_! Something happened to him!"

I remember hearing someone yell. No, no – there was lots of yelling... lots of panicked noises...

"Can't he stay alive, just for one invasion?"

I _tried _to be alive, I wish I could have told Johanna...

"Peeta..."

I'm alive. I'm alive. I won't die. Not yet. There are too many things I haven't done.

I was on a stretcher. Then I wasn't. The medics attended to me. I remember lots of numbness. Lots of nothing. Most of it happened in my head. Well, no. There was a lot of messed up memories.

"Peeta..."

I remember how it feels to have Katniss' fingers on my forehead, how it feels to have her desperately squeeze my hand. That's when I know things are going badly. When she's unafraid to touch me. I wish I could comfort her.

But there is a portion of the dream – the dream that might not be a dream... "You'll be all right..."

_I know I will._

"Just hang on for me, Peeta..."

_Of course I will. Anything for you._

"Stay alive, please..."

In the dream, she kisses me.

…

(Katniss POV)

"How is he?"

I look up at Gale, who looks genuinely worried. "He'll be fine," I murmur. Everyone sags, sighing with relief. The medic already told us he was going to be fine, but apparently my testimony is what makes it a real relief. Even knowing that Peeta's okay, though, I willingly accept Gale's offer of a hug, pressing my head against his chest. I need a hug right now. He'd looked so... dead. Too dead.

"He's alive," says Lira. "That's what matters."

But I know she was worried, too. We all were. I watch her expression, her eyes not leaving the entrance to the tent. I was the only one allowed to see him ("he's not thinking clearly enough to respond to anyone, anyway," the medics had said, and I'm closest to him), and I think Lira's a bit disappointed. Before my curiosity can get the better of me, I slip away from Gale and go over to my tent.

Peeta got the worst of the bomb. The rest of us miraculously made it through, at least with injuries less shattering than Peeta's.

He was so still. If I hadn't felt the sweat between his fingers and the warmth radiating from his palm, I would have believed him to be dead. It would have been easy to look at his ashen face and think so. He's not dead, though. Not. Not. Not. Dead. Not dead at all. Not dead. Peeta is going to live a long life and have many babies and grow up to be gray-haired and he will die in his sleep.

I sigh and put my face in my hands. No matter how hard I try, I end up caring for people. _This _is why I don't make friends. Not because it's pointless to (as I've forced myself to believe all these years), but because it's dangerous to care for people. It's dangerous to want to throw myself between Peeta and that bomb, to keep him alive no matter the costs. I don't even know _why _I want to keep him alive.

But then I remember District Four, seeing Peeta unmoving in the hovercraft: such a similar situation to today, except in Four, Peeta had been bleeding. I remember pushing everyone aside, needing to see him for myself. I was in hysterics.

"He's fine! He's fine!" Lira was screaming at me. She was in hysterics, too.

"_What happened to him_?" I snarled at Boggs.

He was bleeding and bruised and...

I want to keep him alive because I care about him. He's the first person – since my father's death – aside from Gale to truly look at me like I'm not some insensitive recluse. I wanted to keep him alive because he keeps _me _alive. He's there when I wake up from the nightmares. He's there when, once again, I fail to get my father out of the mines fast enough – he tells me _it's not real, it's not real, it's not real,_ even though it was, and we both know it. _You couldn't have done anything_, he tells me anyway.

_You'll be okay, you'll be okay. _

I punch my sleeping bag. Then, I sigh once more. "You'll be okay, too, Peeta," I whisper. I pull my knees up to my chest and rock back and forth like I do on those sleepless nights. The difference is his arms are not around me today. There is no Peeta to comfort me this time. And I am scared.

…

I wake up the next morning to soft chatter outside my tent. I unzip my sleeping bag and crawl to the entrance. In my just-awoken haze I vaguely process who the voices are: Lira, Peeta.

"How are you feeling?" she asks gently. There's tinkling of bowls. They're having breakfast.

"Major headache," he grunts.

I see Lira smiling, from the tent flap I'm holding open slightly. She nods. "But otherwise..."

"Okay," says Peeta quietly. I come out of the tent. The two of them look at me, and Peeta smiles. "Good morning."

I stare at him, wanting desperately for him to comfort _me _for _him _being almost dead, but that's irrational and selfish, so I don't. "Good morning," I say faintly.

Peeta, of course, doesn't miss it. "Come here."

I bite my lip.

"Seriously, Kat. It's fine." He comes over to me, instead, holding me like I wanted him to. Maybe I'm afraid of losing this feeling of safety... maybe that's why seeing him almost dead scared me so much... "Sorry."

"Don't _apologize_," I say, crossing my arms. "It's not your fault."

The corner of Peeta's mouth quirks up a little. "Kat. You should have seen your face. I'm _fine_. I promise. It's just a headache."

I sigh, pulling away from him. "What's for breakfast?" I ask Lira, who silently hands me the breakfast. I wonder if that bothered her. I look to Peeta, who's still watching me as I eat. The three of us eat in silence for a long time. Even when the others get up, they're called for other various duties. Finnick goes to the medic, following his injuries. Gale gets a phone call from Beetee (talking about weapons). Johanna has breakfast and then goes to see Finnick.

Lira leaves, soon, too, after getting called by Boggs. Which leaves me with Peeta.

"Kat," says Peeta suddenly... "There's something that happened yesterday that I'm not sure happened. I'm not sure of it's real or not."

I look at him sharply. "... what is it?"

…

The medic came out. "Okay. He's fine. He's sedated, but he'll be fine. His head's a bit rattled, but everything's in tact. He'll be fine."

"Can we see him?" Lira burst out.

"He won't be able to respond..." said the medic, frowning. "He's sedated." He probably thought that we were stupid little kids. Soldier wannabes. Maybe we were. But I was a little indignant. We weren't _stupid_.

Gale sighed, exasperated. "Can we see him, anyway? Or at least just Katniss?" I looked at him in surprise.

I wasn't sure if I _wanted _to see him. I was afraid of being afraid of seeing him. Who knows what the sight of him like that will do to me? It was bad in Four, but what about now? This is worse. I actually saw him get blown off the ground, fly like a rag doll, fall several feet away, landing on ruin and broken glass...

The medic looked at me. "Just you."

I glanced at the others. Finnick and Gale nodded encouragingly. Johanna flicked her wrist, motioning for me to go on. Lira watched me for a moment, as if she wanted it to be her going to see Peeta, but then she smiled. Go ahead, she was saying. I gave her a smile back and pushed through the tent entrance to see him.

Peeta groaned and mumbled something incoherent. A blanket's thrown over him, tucked around the edges of the cot. I scurried over and took the hand that was left outside the blanket. It was sweaty and hot, but I didn't care. It was proof that he was alive. I pressed myself against the cot, leaning closer to him.

His face was masked with ash. There were scratches up and down his arm, from the blown stained glass windows that had scratched him. Unsurprisingly, his hair was getting all over his eyes again – the Star Squad being commonly on screen, we got to skip the haircut that most soldiers went through. I leaned over to brush them away again. "You'll be all right," I whispered to him, trying to echo the things he always said to me, all those nights.

Peeta's breathing relaxed, as if he could hear me.

I bit my lip, squeezing his hand as hard as I could. Voice still very quiet, I said, "Just hang on for me, Peeta, please..." I shut my eyes tightly, forcing out the tears that had been forming. As though it could make a difference, I begged him, "Stay alive, please."

I stared at his face, wanting more than anything for those eyes to open. I wanted to see them. I wanted to see real proof that he was living, that he was going to breathe more breaths, that he was going to be able to hug me once more. "Peeta..."

I swallowed, hand sliding down from his forehead to his cheek. I pressed my cool hand against his face. It was so strange to be talking to him and not get a response. He was always the one consoling _me_. When the roles were flipped any way, the whole world just got so confusing. Once more, I gulped.

Suddenly, a longing rushed through me. More than just to see him awake. There was something else there, bubbling in me... "Peeta," I whispered again, bending down close to his face –

…

"I dreamed..."

I hold my breath. But his eyes were closed. He was _knocked out_. He can't have known...

Peeta pauses, then laughs a little. "Never mind. It's stupid."

"No," I say. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he says, waving a hand and leaning back onto the ground. "There's no way it was real."

I chew on the inside of my cheek. "Right. Not real."

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**_Review, si'l vous plait!_**


	22. Cupid Odair

Personally, I thought that was a lovely way to end it, especially since all you guys knew that I wouldn't be updating for a while ;) I'd love to have just kept you waiting... and waiting... but you know what? I have a heart; I'll update for you.

Funny how some of you aren't sure if she kissed him lol. She did. ;) I was happy you didn't know, though. I did that on purpose.

I wrote this over the weekend, but also _reread _it over the weekend and didn't like it. So I finished my homework today and decided to edit it. :)

(Katniss POV)

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

"No!"

Peeta, Lira, Gale, Johanna, Finnick, and I stare at Boggs in disbelief. Peeta and I particularly. "No!" says Peeta again. I think the only time I've seen him this angry is when his mother was talking trash about me. "I can't believe this! It's not _my _fault the bomb went off, and I was facing the wrong direction. I mean, I get the whole District Four thing, but that was once!"

"I'm sorry, Peeta," says Boggs tiredly, "it's not up for me to decide. It's Plutarch's orders."

"If anything, it should be the camera crew going home!" Peeta rages. "This isn't fair!"

"No," I say suddenly. "If Peeta goes back to Thirteen, so do I."

Boggs throws his head back. I can imagine the things going through his head: _I can't believe I've been demoted to working with a bunch of over-emotional teenagers_. I would have been thinking the same thing if I were in his place, but Peeta having to go back to Thirteen is an irrational decision, and frankly, a part of me believes that Coin did this purely to spite me. I just have this weird feeling that she dislikes me, but Lira says that she's like that to everyone who is a threat to her position.

I'm a _threat _to her position? That woman needs to get her head on straight. If she'd been nicer to me, I would never have been "a threat to her position". Honestly...

"I'm serious, Boggs," I say. "And if you force him on that train and me off it, I will not do anything for this stupid rebellion. I never wanted to, you know."

It's true. Even now, I'm skeptical about this mess of a revolution. They aren't going to get me to fight this battle without Peeta, no matter what. I meet Gale's eyes. He gives me a rueful smile. I know that _he _is going to stay here, even if I go. He hates the Capitol too much to not do so.

Boggs sighs. "I'll talk to the president, Soldier Everdeen, but you're out of line."

"So is Coin, trying to send Peeta home!" I snap. "None of what happened to him is his fault! And even in Four, everybody kept giving him mixed signals. That isn't his fault, either."

Our commander narrows his eyes. "We told you to fall back."

My face heats up. "You would be a soldier less if I had done your bidding, Commander."

Boggs gives Finnick a small half-smile. "Right." He sighs, apparently tired of arguing with me. I know that face. It's the _I've had enough _face."Dismissed, Squad 451. I will talk to the president, I promise."

The squad exits the planning tent. Johanna and Gale seem to have nothing to say, so they immediately leave. Finnick puts a light hand on my shoulder. I turn around to see him. "Just so we're clear, I'm glad you didn't follow orders that day."

He's a bit too cocky for my taste, and his looks are overwhelming, but there is something I like about Finnick Odair. "So am I, Finnick."

With one last grin, he follows Gale and Johanna back to our residential tents. Lira and Peeta look at me. "Will you seriously do all those things you said if Peeta goes home?" Lira asks. She just seems impressed, which irritates me slightly. It's hard not to like her, even if she and Peeta are making googly-eyes at one another.

I nod, raising a brow. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Seems a bit rash," Lira notes.

"Forcing Peeta to go home is a bit rash."

Lira smiles. "Good point." She looks at Peeta. "Hope you stay, buddy."

He gives her a humorless smile. "You and me both, Liar." When Lira follows the others, Peeta looks at me. "Okay. Now, be serious. You're not actually going to leave with me, are you?"

"First of all," I say, "we're not even sure if you're leaving. Secondly, even if you _were _leaving, I would go with you. I'm not facing this war on my own."

Peeta looks over his shoulder. "They're all your friends, aren't they?"

"Not like you are." I sigh. Peeta is the neutralizer between Gale and me; for the past few weeks, Gale has been my best friend and nothing more. And I know Peeta being here has to do with it. The two of us start walking the other direction, toward a more secluded part of the encampment. "I've played with the idea of losing you, Peeta, and it's not an option. You are staying alive and with me for this entire rebellion, okay?"

He smiles. "Of course. Even if I have to go through fire."

A corner of my lips quirks up. I give an amused look to the pod-laden streets. "You know what? We might have to."

Peeta chuckles. "Let's hope not. I'm sure I'm out with a third misstep."

I cross my arms and raise my brows at him. "Let's not plan to."

"I'm not."

I look at him, his seemingly recovered body... but he doesn't fool me. I've seen him stumble over his own feet once or twice over the past few days. I've heard him claim that it was just a twig or a crack. I know better though. His aching head throws him off balance more times than feels safe. He has these little spasms in random moments – his hand will fly to a place where he'd been pierced with glass and suddenly start scratching... "Itchy," he'd say.

I'm suddenly overcome with sudden desperation. "Peeta, I am so serious," I hiss, gripping his arm. "Hang on for me, _please_. Don't leave me here."

His eyes flicker between my eyes and the hand on his arm. When he meets mine again, they hold for a moment, and they're widened slightly. He's surprised. He's realized something. "Kat," Peeta says gently, pulling my hand off his arm. He puts his hands on my shoulders. "I promise I'll stay alive for you this time, okay? Anything for Miss 'niss." He smiles.

A bit embarrassed at my outburst, I clear my throat slightly and say, "Right."

Then I leave him and sprint to my tent before I do something that I regret.

...

Boredom ought to be declared a sickness.

But on the bright side, we've come up with some remedies.

There's Guess Who, Truth or Dare, and we've even brought out old hand clapping games from our childhood. It turns out the Districts have had a variety, so we're able to teach each other some. The monotony is excruciating, but people like Finnick and Lira and Peeta force us to have fun, coaxing us to play even the silliest games that involve "freezing" at the end. We've played hide and seek, too.

It's been two days since President Coin requested Peeta go back to Thirteen, and three days until he's to go back. We're waiting for her word. Boggs swears that he called, and that she said she'd "think about it" and that she was "too busy" to think about "some petty little problem" right now. I know it's not "some petty little problem", though, because I am one of her precious little mockingjays. If I stop singing, she won't be happy.

"Katniss," says Peeta.

I look up at him. "Yes?"

"... remember how that bomb blew me several feet in the air, through glass shards and onto glass shards?"

I laugh. (That's been another objective over the past few days: getting ourselves to laugh. The boredom we've suffered is indescribable.) "Yes, I think that rings a bell."

"Remember how I have really bad mental issues from it?"

I nod.

"Then... answer this," he says. Peeta then takes a huge breath, like he's scared to talk. I find out why: "Have we ever kissed before? Because I remember... talking about kissing to you, and I remember..." The end of his sentence disappears. His face is crimson, as if he regrets saying it. I wish he hadn't said it either.

My eyes widen just a little bit, and just for a moment. I can't tell him... of course I couldn't tell him. "We've never kissed," I lie, but I'm not a good liar.

Peeta narrows his eyes. "Really?"

"Yes," I say, but it comes out in a whisper. Clearly, I say, "We've never kissed, Peeta... why would we?" I add a small laugh, making it seem like the idea of it to be more preposterous. And it kind of is, even if it did happen.

"Yes," he says faintly, "why would we?"

Guilt floods through me. No matter what about, I shouldn't be lying to Peeta. He's my friend. I remember several instances when I've lied, and almost all the time it was for the person's own good. When Peeta goes to talk to Lira, I bite my lip, and then bring a hand up to brush over my lips, suddenly ashamed. I don't know why I kissed him. I never should have.

_You liiiiike him_, I can imagine Prim or Rue teasing.

I'd laugh, blushing, and wave a hand. _That's silly._

Is it?

I look at Peeta and Lira and wonder if it's jealousy I feel. Is that feeling of frustration truly jealousy? I bury my face in my hands. Why else would I kiss him unless I didn't feel that way? I grit my teeth.

"Katniss?" says Finnick. "Are you all right?"

"'m fine."

Finnick doesn't leave. I can see him through my fingers. He settles down next to me. "Can I talk to you?"

"... I guess you can." I don't want him to, though.

I surface from my hands and look at him. He's looking serious, now. With a heavy sigh, Finnick says, "You know... you confuse me, Katniss."

"Yeah? How?" I'll humor him.

He looks over at Peeta. "You tell him you didn't kiss him. We both know you did."

"How do you -" Then I bite back a groan. Just a few seconds ago I'd self-consciously touched my own lips, probably looking like I remembered kissing Peeta. I'd even _said _that I'm a bad liar. I sigh. "What of it?"

"And yet..." Finnick says slowly, apparently not sure about what he wants to say. "No. I know what I was going to say – you don't think you love him, do you?"

I break down that wording. You. Don't think. You love him. I _don't think_. "No..." I say, "I _know _I don't love him, Finnick."

"I think you do," says Finnick. Then, he hastens to add, "I'm not saying in what way, but I do know that you love him. I saw you on the hovercraft, you know. It was the first thing I thought about you, right after 'brave'. We got in there, and the first thing you did was throw me aside to see Peeta. Forget that you'd just fought through a bunch of Peacekeepers and survived with hardly a scratch, just look at the bleeding boy on the floor of the hovercraft. Nothing else matters. That's what you looked like."

"He's my friend."

"A really good one, apparently. You should have seen your face."

I sigh. "That doesn't mean I _love _him."

He smirks at me. "You're jealous of Lira, though."

I widen my eyes at him. "I'm not!"

"Yeah?" says Finnick. He tosses his head, telling me to look over at Peeta and Lira. I refuse to, because I realize that whatever I would see will just make me angry. Still smiling slyly, Finnick says, "You were saying?"

"It doesn't matter, anyway," I say, crossing my arms. "Even if Lira and Peeta didn't like one another, I wouldn't risk caring about him more than I do, now. Not during a war."

"That's not something you decide. And anyway, love doesn't make you weak, Katniss. Having loved ones might be a weakness somewhere along the road, yeah, but caring for others makes you so strong." Finnick stands up and brushes the dirt off his butt. "Not just anyone would poach illegally for their family, you know. It takes an enormous amount of dedication and love to do that. It's the same in the case of wanting to throw yourself between a boy and a bomb."

I purse my lips, irritated because he's used an ultimate argument. And I won't deny that I _wanted _to do that – it was a millisecond of stupid thoughts. I wanted to save Peeta. That was the first thought. But afterwards, I realized how idiotic of an idea it was.

"You're not denying it."

I groan. "Go away, Finnick."

"He loves you, too, you know."

"Shut up."

* * *

I may not be updating tomorrow, remember! :) This was written when I had time. I already have homework, which is tragic, haha.

_**Review, si'l vous plait!**_


	23. Peeta Mellark, Homebound

Hey guise. 'sup? ;)

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

...

(Peeta POV)

The thing about Katniss Everdeen is that ninety-eight percent of the time, she's extraordinarily calm – at least outwardly, which is what matters. When she's _not _relaxed, she's not-relaxed to the extreme.

Katniss' eyes train on Finnick's fingers as they fly, knotting and unknotting a short string of rope. He'd acquired it a few days ago and hadn't let go of it since then. Today, we're to hear from President Coin whether or not I am going to go, but it's almost lunchtime, and she still hasn't called Boggs, which has been testing Katniss' self-control. She sits cross legged next to Finnick, bouncing her knee up and down impatiently. I watch her from my tent in amusement, waiting for her to crack. It doesn't take long.

Impatience finally overcoming her, she seizes the rope. "I'm stressed," she hisses at him.

Finnick scowls.

"Relax, Miss 'niss," says Johanna with a snicker. "Coin wouldn't displease you."

"Then," Katniss says through her teeth, "why is she taking so long?"

"She's angry that you threatened her, probably," Lira suggests. Responding to Katniss' glare, she says hastily, "But at least then she'd be letting Peeta stay."

Gale smiles at me, and the two of us approach Katniss. I place a hand on her shoulder, chuckling. "Relax, Kat."

Gale appears beside her, sitting down with a smile. "Breathe."

"I'm breathing," she growls.

I bend my face down close to hers. "You're not breathing properly. Come on. Relax." I smile at her, trying to remind her that I promised her something.

Katniss looks at me for a long time before take a deep breath. "Right."

"May I have my string back?" asks Finnick.

"No!" she snarls, going back to knotting.

Finnick sighs and then rolls his eyes.

I settle down on Katniss' other side. I slide my hand down to her spine, rubbing soothingly. "You're more stressed about this than I am," I note.

"I, but I... well," stammers Katniss. She lets out a breath, closing her eyes. She tosses the rope in Finnick's direction when her eyes open again. "I'm good. I'm totally fine."

"Do you hear that?" says Lira.

"What?" I ask.

There is a short moment. The suspense builds before shattering with sudden movement:

"The phone!" Katniss screeches, standing up. "The phone!"

It seems that every time she calms down, someone just ruins my work. Boggs scrambles out of his tent. "I hear you, Katniss, calm down!" he says, apparently finding her discomfort laughable.

I put my hands on Katniss' shoulders, massaging. "Stop it. Breathe. You're going crazy, Kat."

"The _phone_!" she says urgently, apparently incapable to form concrete thoughts. "President Coin!"

"Shhh. Katniss, calm _down_!" says Gale exasperatedly.

"Don't tell me to _calm down_," she snaps, fighting out of my grip and rushing to the planning tent. I give the rest of the squad exasperated looks. They all smile back at me, amused. To be honest, I find a hysterical Katniss funny as well – largely because Hysterical-Katniss is a rare species.

Gale, Lira, and I follow Katniss to the planning tent, where Boggs is already on the phone.

His back is toward us. The phone is put up against one ear; Boggs' left hand is pressed against the other ear, blocking everything out. Katniss stands at the edge of the tent, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Gale gives me a wry look, and I have to smile back. But for the first time, I feel genuinely worried that I'll be going back to Thirteen. I cross my arms, thinking about Ma's smug face – Katniss is risking her life out here, while I'd be in Thirteen, safe behind Ma's loving arms... it's almost funny.

"Yes, ma'am. All well here... no, they've all been... yes," he says. There's nothing comprehensible about this conversation right now. My foot taps impatiently. "But... would I get... I don't think that's... but... I know, ma'am. But Plutarch is looking at this as a Gamemaker. I'm looking at this as a Commander of my squad. I seriously think – yes, but they're so much more than that, President. Well, I know, but they..."

I don't like how it sounds. Boggs twists around to see us and then immediately looks back. He exhales loudly, which just accentuates his frustration. It bothers me.

"I guess Katniss will be happy, President, but I don't know about everyone else. Well, I know that. But they're all just as important. And I'd be losing a valuable soldier."

Katniss turns around to me, alarmed. I don't get it, to be honest. Katniss would be happy, but Boggs would be losing a valuable soldier?

"Maybe someone else is going home," whispers Lira hopefully.

"President," says Boggs irritably, "they aren't supermodels! They're – yes, I understand that, President, but I'm just trying to remind you that – but this isn't – what about Finnick, then? No! No way! Finnick wouldn't be happy about that _at all_, ma'am! That's just -"

"What's going on?" I ask, absolutely baffled.

"- no! He wouldn't be okay with it. _He'd _threaten to go home," says Boggs, switching the phone to the other ear. He runs a hand down his face, looking quite old. "What does she say about it? … well, obviously, she'd be with Finnick!"

"Annie," Gale suggests.

"It would make sense," agrees Katniss, frowning.

"She can't possibly be _healthy _enough to come. I don't care that it looks good on the screen, President, Katniss is so much more stable and capable than Annie is..."

"They're considering bringing _me _home and bringing _Annie _here," Katniss says to us, seizing Gale's arm.

Boggs explodes: "NO! I refuse to – no, no, no! That's not morally _right_, President! Why can't we just keep Katniss and Peeta here? If you're going to replace them, ma'am, at least replace them with people who won't have to be followed by a medic or a babysitter!"

"Rue," Gale murmurs. "That means President Coin wants you two out, for some reason, but they'd have to bring in two other people – and that means the two best-looking victors."

"Rue, because she won the last Games," Lira muses, "and Annie, because she'd be with Finnick."

Katniss looks between the two of them in disbelief. "They can't be serious. What could possibly be so important for Peeta and me to go back to Thirteen?"

"Nothing. They just want Peeta back home. But you put up some complications," Lira explains.

Silent, Katniss chews on her lip. I can imagine what she's thinking – _Peeta or Rue?_ I sigh, because I know that nothing I say will sway her decision, even if that isn't what she's thinking about.

Boggs frowns, but it's a more speculative and thoughtful frown than an upset frown. "I suppose that could work... yes. That does make sense. Would you like to tell her yourself, President? I thought so. Oh. Okay." He looks to Katniss. "Haymitch will explain everything to you."

Raising a brow, Katniss takes the phone reluctantly. "Hello? … hi, Haymitch... fine. Oh! That's great!... okay, what is it? … wait, what? … are you lying to me? Seriously, are you? But that's ridiculous! We've never even … what does the _public _know? That's just stupid, Haymitch. No! No, you cannot – ugh!" She shoves the phone in my direction and then stomps out.

"Go after her," I suggest to Gale, who promptly follows.

Boggs crosses his arms, looking a bit... smugly, at Katniss.

I keep looking at him suspiciously as I hold the phone up to my face. "Haymitch?"

"Hi, Peeta."

"What did you say? Katniss looks ready to shoot something," I say slowly.

Haymitch sighs. "Okay, here's the thing. Neither Plutarch or Coin were happy with the fact that there'd been so many near misses, Peeta. Their mockingjays are precious, you know. They have to be _safe_. Basically, they decided to point fingers at you."

"But -"

"Look, I don't blame you. This isn't the point. They'd be happy to bring you home, because you don't really matter. Not on the screen. You're just a handsome kid who looks nice on the camera and complements the others. _That _is your purpose in the Airtime Assault. Here's the thing, though. You've been complementing them _well_. Specifically, Katniss. There are three stars of the show, right? Johanna, Finnick, Katniss. Johanna's too ruthless to be romantic, Finnick's taken. That leaves Katniss, who happens to be your age, came to Thirteen with you, _and _gets along with you splendidly on camera."

"Wait. What?"

"The public likes you and Katniss together. So, the conclusion that Fulvia came up with is you and Katniss come home. You show the world that you can be happy and romantic and loving during wartime, while Annie goes out there to spread the same word with Finnick. Rue is going to be an image of the impossible, basically doing the same thing she did in the Games," says Haymitch.

My head's spinning. "They want me to -"

"Pretend that you're in love with Katniss, yes."

_Pretend_.

I almost want to burst out laughing.

"Katniss isn't happy with this," I say.

"Plutarch and Coin really like this idea. She doesn't really have a choice," he replies unsympathetically, "and anyway, when you get back, we'll have her little sister help convince her."

"Prim's on board with this?"

Haymitch snorts. "She came up with the idea."

I smile, remembering something she said back in Thirteen: _Do you_ realize _how much I've put it into you and Katniss? _"Somehow, I'm not surprised." I pause. "I think she'll be able to convince Katniss. If anyone, it'll be Prim."

"The train will be there tomorrow for you two, so pack your bags."

"Okay," I say slowly. "Thanks."

Basically, I have a girlfriend now. And she just happens to be the girl I've loved since kindergarten.

Sort of.

…

I watch as Katniss slumps at her seat by the window. Her eyes are unmoving, staring at something that isn't there. A glum expression is on her face. She seemed genuinely upset to be leaving Gale, but they'd talked about it – from what I can understand – and she feels like this is the right thing to do. I haven't bothered asking her about it. It seemed like she didn't really want to talk about it. When we said goodbye to the squad this morning, though, Katniss looked like she had half a mind to stay.

I smile a little sadly and stand up. "Kat," I say, putting a hand on her shoulder. She jumps a little, looking at me. "You didn't have to do this, you know."

"I'd be happier with Mother and Prim," she reminds me.

"Gale's in the Capitol."

"Gale doesn't need me to take care of him."

I hesitate, because this is true. But I have a feeling it's not what Gale said to her. "What did he say to you, those few days ago? What made you decide that this whole thing's going to be okay?"

"I didn't decide that," she says, "I decided that it would be okay to try."

"You don't like the idea."

Katniss looks up at me. Her face doesn't betray whatever she's feeling right now. "Why? Do you?"

I wonder what I could tell her. I couldn't tell her that I hate the idea – I obviously don't – but I also can't exactly tell her that I love the idea – which is the truth. I skirt what I honestly believe altogether and say smoothly, "It's better than us being apart."

I get a smile out of her, but she doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry you had to be separated from Gale, though," I say honestly.

She looks back to the window, somewhat disgruntled. "That's not really the problem..."

"Then, what is?"

"I don't know..." Katniss sighs. "It feels like lying."

Oh. That makes sense.

"It kind of is," she continues, hugging her knees. I sit down on the chair across from her. This is when it's safe to look at her. I study her features as she leans her forehead against the glass. "Lying, I mean. And nothing ever good comes out of lying. They just become worse lies. Imagine lying to a whole _country_... imagine how big that lie becomes, Peeta. It's such a bad idea."

_It could be real_, I wish I could say to her. _You and I could be real._

"We'll figure it out," I say lamely.

The two of us turn around, hearing a knock at the door to our compartment. It's the TV crew – a new one, not the ones who followed us in the Capitol – and they've brought cameras. "Acting starts now, kids. Just cuddle up, and we'll get a couple clips."

Katniss gives me a sad smile. I pat the spot next to me, and almost unhesitatingly she curls up by my side. "I was going to sleep anyway," she murmurs tiredly. Leaning against my shoulder with surprising ease, she says, "Wake me up when we get there."

I try to focus on the sound of her breathing, the consistent rumble of tracks below us, and the view out my window. It helps block out the camera. But not by much.


	24. The EverArk Propos

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

…

(Peeta POV)

"Cut!"

Katniss shoots Ajax Lactantius a dirty look. I would, but I can't stand looking at him. It's like staring at the sun in the way that it's painful, and like staring at the moon in the way I'm pretty sure I'll go crazy if I stare at him for too long. Ajax has his hair dyed in the most disgusting shade of orange. His eyes are surgically altered to match – so obnoxiously bright that you can see his eyes from several feet away. Today he wears a purple pinstripe suit, complete with a crimson polka-dotted tie and shoes that match the tie. Even Fulvia and Plutarch, Capitol-born, call him "extreme". He is the most extreme of the extremes – the most Capitolian of the already-extreme Capitol.

He is also our director, unfortunately.

With an obvious flair for what Ajax likes to call the "radical", he settles for nothing less than what the audience wants. "They want _romance_, guys!" he was saying to us earlier, prepping for the first Ever-Ark Propos. (Ever-Ark being the only working portmanteau of "Everdeen" and "Mellark".) "They want to see hope! And love! By the end of the day, you will have a complete understanding of the word 'romance'!"

I could tell from that moment that he, Katniss, and I would not get along very well.

We're on the twenty-fourth take of this simple scene (thirty seconds long), but who's counting, eh?

"I'm sorry it's not radical enough for you, Ajax," says Katniss through her teeth.

Annoyingly naïve, Ajax says, "No, no, no! You were so close that time."

We're trying to get a sweet, soft Katniss out of the Katniss we currently have (who is anything but "sweet, soft", especially at this point), but it seems that everybody doesn't realize how horrible Katniss is at lying or making things up.

"Ajax," I say, trying to retain what's left of my patience, "look. It isn't easy for either of us. We're not actors."

"But you can be! People as radical as you can be brilliant at anything!" he insists.

Finally, Haymitch bursts through the camera crowd. We know he's been watching, and I've been begging him to intervene, but he insisted that there was nothing he could do. "Okay," says Haymitch, "listen, Lactantius. You will not get anything out of these two – particularly Katniss – if it isn't genuine."

Ajax pouts. "So how am I supposed to get my propo?"

"We'll try something else," says Haymitch coldly. "Peeta -"

"No, no, wait!" cries Ajax. "We'll just try one last time, okay?"

Katniss looks like she wishes she had a gun in hand.

"One last time," I say, trying to give Katniss a placating look. She just glares at me. But I don't take it to heart. She's pretty annoyed right now, so the glare stays.

"Okay, okay!" Ajax grins, shooing Haymitch away. "And, _action_!"

For the twenty-fifth time today, Katniss sighs heavily (which is part of the scene). "I hate having to leave them behind."

The idea of the scene is that the cameras are hiding. Spying on us.

"Why did you, then?" I ask, keeping my eyes locked on her. It's not hard to pretend that I'm truly curious. A part of me is still wondering why Katniss gave up Gale for me, to tell the truth.

Katniss swallows tightly. I'm impressed. It looks genuine, for the first time since about the third take. She whispers, "I -" This is where she has to look like she's crying at least a bit. Her face scrunches up, her eyes squeeze tightly...

I close the space between us, pulling her into my arms. "It's okay. You don't have to explain, Kat."

"No, but Peeta, I -" Then her voice cracks. I remind myself that the cameras are rolling, so I can't fall on the floor in shock. She begins to talk again: "Peeta, I -"

There are too many seconds that pass after. The rest of us realize that she's forgotten the lines. The problem is that Katniss is the one doing the declaration of love. I'm sure the idea of it bites at her.

"Cut," Ajax calls out, sounding defeated.

Haymitch steps out again. "Okay. You two just need to talk about something that you two are actually interested in."

Katniss and I look at each other.

"I dunno. I find this pretty fascinating," I say with a small smile.

There is a long pause. Katniss' eyes are locked on mine.

"Other than that, Peeta," says Haymitch.

"I know," says Katniss loudly. "I know what I want to talk about."

"Is it radical?" asks Ajax doubtfully.

Katniss gives him a cold look. "I guess we'll find out, Ajax."

"What is it?" I ask patiently.

"The bread," she says clearly, and it takes a while for me to realize what she means. When I do, a shudder runs through me, understanding that she means the very reason that I decided to befriend her. "I want to know about the bread."

Ajax looks between us. He demands, "What's the bread?"

Haymitch pauses. "I know what they're talking about. It will be 'radical', Ajax. Just roll the cameras. You two walk down the hallway like nothing's going on."

Our director looks a bit disgruntled with the idea of other people being in charge of _his _propo. He sighs. "Fine. _Action_!"

Katniss and I start walking.

"I've been wondering something for a while," says Katniss. It seems very real: her hands are in her sweater pockets, she's staring at the floor, and her voice is quiet and resigned, as if she doesn't _really _want to be heard. Just like the real Katniss Everdeen.

"Yeah?"

Katniss frowns. "I remember the first time I ever... well, interacted, with you. The bread, you remember?"

"The..." I pause, feigning confusion. "Sorry?" The crowd has to know what we're talking about.

She nods. "Back when we were little, remember? I was starving. Going through the trash. You caught me and gave me some loaves of bread. Your mother thought you were giving them to the pigs."

I pretend that I am understanding. "Oh! I remember..."

"You got hit for it," she murmurs.

"It was worth it."

Katniss' smile is a Katniss smile. Awkward and shy and one that doesn't show up often. "Thanks." She leans closer to me. "Why?"

I purposely hesitate, truly not wanting to respond. "Why, what?"

"Why did you do it?"

I flashback to all those months ago. The first time I really spoke to Katniss Everdeen. I decide to give the same to the audience, but... maybe...

"I'd seen you before. The first time, in kindergarten. You remember?"

Katniss looks startled. "Sort of."

I recite the same thing I said to her: "Yeah. We were five, and it was the first day of kindergarten. You had on... a red plaid dress, and you had two braids in your hair. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up."

She says the same thing she said then. "Your father? Why?"

"He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner'," I say quietly. "And I said, 'A coal miner? Why would she run off with a coal miner if she could have had you?' And then he said, 'Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen.'"

"But what does that have to do with why you gave me the bread?" she asks. I can see the curiosity in her eyes. They widen like Prim's do – and like hers _never _do. She's usually so quiet, her face so devoid of feeling.

"In the music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. And you raised your hand and she put you up on the stool to sing. Then... you sang, and I swear, all the birds outside stopped to listen," I say softly, heart hammering. "And from that moment, I knew that, like your mother, I was a goner."

"A... goner?" she repeats faintly.

I nod, stepping closer to her. "In love with you."

Katniss stares in disbelief. "... really?"

Smiling, I bring a hand up to her cheek, caressing gently. "Why? You don't believe me?"

"Not really," she breathes, eyes still huge with surprise.

I chuckle. "Well, then..." I lean in slightly -

"Cut!" Ajax screams, clapping his hands excitedly. I lean back in some relief. "That was _radical_! Where did that _come from_? So perfect! So romantic! Like out of a novel! Oh, so, so, so... that was so _radical_!"

Katniss is still observing me in shock.

I look away. "Are we done, then, Ajax?"

"Yes," he says happily. "That was so radical. You have no idea how radical that was. I told you two that you were capable of radicality. That was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful." Positively ecstatic, Ajax says, "And we left it at a cliffhanger, too. They will _love it_! I can't wait to collaborate with what Cressida has with Finnick and Annie... let's go, guys!"

When the film crew leaves, Haymitch stays, watching me in interest. His smirk is unmistakeable.

"So," I say brightly. "Impressed, Abernathy?"

"Very."

"Where did that come from?" Katniss asks abruptly.

I smile at her. "Did you doubt my skill? The story worked, didn't it?"

"Yeah," she says, still suspicious. I'm kind of scared. "It worked..."

I wink. "Radical."

…

I sit with the girls in the Everdeen room. Katniss is huddled on her bunk, flipping through a book. Rue and Prim are playing a hand-clapping game that Katniss and I taught them. We're waiting for the propo to show up on the screen next to us. Ajax, ever-enthusiastic to prove himself (after being shoved aside during the actual shooting), edited very quickly and was able to get the propo ready just two days after we'd filmed.

"We've heard it's 'radical'," Prim had said playfully.

The two of _them _had found Ajax hilarious. He was a kid person.

"Hey, Gale's on the screen!" said Rue.

The three of us do a double-take, looking to the screen. Sure enough, Gale Hawthorne is on the screen. Katniss scrambles down to sit next to me.

"I've been friends with Katniss since I was fourteen. She was twelve. She's my best friend," he confides into the camera. "Peeta, I've gotten to know this past year. He's like a brother I've never had." He peers up above the camera, looking at someone. "Hey, Jo, come tell everyone about Finnick and Annie."

Johanna mumbles protests, but she's pushed into sitting next to Gale. "What do you want me to say?"

"How do you know them?" Gale presses.

Hesitating, Johanna seems to think back. "Well, Finnick and I were mentors together during the sixty-eighth Games. It's easy to become friends as victors, you know? Misery loves company..."

"What about Annie?" Cressida, from behind the camera, asks.

"Annie? I met Annie a year or two later." She shrugs. "I thought she was crazy, like everyone else did. But I saw how she was with Finnick, and she grew on me. I like her. She's... sweet. They're perfect together. Anyone can see that." Johanna gives Gale an interested look. "What do you think about Ever-Ark?"

Ugh.

Gale smiles thoughtfully. "Katniss needs someone like Peeta."

What?

"Yeah? What makes you say that?"

"She's..." Gale pauses, trying to find the word. "She's a flame. She's a fire. She's a girl on fire. Peeta's this nice guy who doesn't _extinguish _the fire, you know? He tends it. Makes sure it doesn't burn the house down, but he also makes sure it doesn't go out completely."

Johanna smiles, obviously impressed. Personally, I'm embarrassed. Prim gives me a sneaky grin.

"Go on, show them the tapes," Gale says, grinning at the camera.

The scene cuts. Finnick and Annie reunite. Finnick and Annie in passionate embrace. And more than embrace. Finnick and Annie eating together. Finnick pushing Annie out of the way of a dangerous situation.

The picture on the screen freezes, and there's a familiar voice-over: "I can hear the hearts breaking. All of Finnick's lovers..." The voice giggle, and the propo cuts back to the scene at the camp.

"Lira!" says Katniss.

"That's so sweet," says Lira, curled up at Gale and Johanna's feet. "Do we have anything with Ever-Ark?"

Seriously, Lira? Seriously?

"Just this one," says Gale.

My heart thuds. It's Katniss and me on the screen...

I'm surprised by how real it looks. I'd believe it were true, if I weren't the one in the segment.

When the scene cuts off just as I lean in to Katniss (my own heart still beating rapidly at how it looks), they cut back to Gale, Johanna, and Lira.

Dreamily, Lira says, "The girl on fire and the boy with the bread." She sighs happily before letting out a small laugh. "I can't believe they cut it off! Do you two think they kissed?" Johanna shakes her head. Gale nods vigorously. Lira nods, too, adding, "I say yes."

I roll my eyes.

"But that's all we have for now," says Johanna in a very bright way. Very un-Johanna.

"Stick around, guys," says Gale, smiling encouragingly into the camera. "If love can thrive and survive this war, then all of us definitely can."

"Down with the Capitol!" Johanna cries enthusiastically. (_That _one probably isn't fake.)

The screen cuts to black. There is a long silence that ensues. I know the effect that Ajax was aiming for: lighthearted, hopeful, romantic, and - of course - radical. It did work. There was little drama and little action in the propo. Just a slice of what the audience needed. Comfort. They needed the idea that things _could _be okay, that things _were _okay in parts of the country. That things were not entirely bleak. It looks like it could work. So why am I feeling a sick feeling in my stomach, like I could throw up?

Prim giggles again. Rue giggles with her. I give them exasperated looks.

Katniss is rubbing her face with her hand. "Does anybody _else _think that this can only end _badly_?" she groans.

No, you're not alone, Kat.


	25. The Stylist

LOL. THIS MAKES MY LIFE: (**writergal24**) "Ever-Ark? I guess Katpee just wasn't radical enough for him, haha." That just. I fell on the floor laughing when I read that. You win twenty gazillion theoretical dollars, my friend.

**Willow Nicolina Rose: **Yes. We will bring him here, as per your idea. ^_^

**K: **I miss him, too, haha. Here he is. Also, thank you very much for your very kind comments. :D

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

…

(Katniss POV)

I have already learned to tune out the voice of Ajax Lactantius over the past couple of days, and it's only been two days since we filmed the first propo. They've been filming Peeta and me on and off. Whenever they do, though, the two of us have to be standing close to one another. Touching subtly. Giving each other secret smiles. It's easy enough to make me blush, when it comes to Peeta; his stare is so... concentrated.

The first thing I do when I get up is get a phone call from Gale. "Hey, Catnip."

"Hey!" I say, happy to hear his voice. "I can only talk for a bit, but – how are you?"

"Great." He pauses. "You saw the propo?"

I make a gagging sound. "I'm not sure you fooled the rest of the country with that act, Gale."

He laughs. "Whatever. _Lira _thinks I did perfectly."

I smile a little. "Something going on there?"

I've been his friend for long enough; I can hear the change in his voice when he says her name. That, and I want him to get his mind off _me_. Still, I won't deny the nervous twinge that definitely came over me when I heard him say her name like that. I understand, I guess, what Peeta and Gale can see in her, but at the same time...

Well, no. That's it. That's all I have to say on the topic.

"What makes you say that?"

"Nothing," I say, visualizing his face heat up. I bite back a sigh, because I want to _actually _see his face. I miss him, Gale, my best friend. Despite what he... said... I still crave his company.

"How about you? Something going on over _there_?"

I sigh, because I'm not so stupid as to not know what he's talking about. "Nothing's going on over here, and I know that my acting is bad. Don't pretend that I convinced people for a moment that I -" My voice cracks. I don't want to finish the sentence.

"Oh, but you did. Have you _watched _it? It's amazing how shy and timid and in _love _my Catnip is," says Gale. I feel like this is his retaliation for what I've been saying to him.

Rolling my eyes, I mutter, "I hope you're not being serious."

His tone changes to be more serious. "No, I'm serious. You could have fooled me. I didn't even recognize you on there." I replay his voice in my head, trying to figure out if he _is _being honest. Gale can probably sense the thought that's in the pause, because he says softly, "What's wrong?"

"I feel like _Peeta _is serious, Gale," I say in a whisper, as if I'm scared that Peeta is right around the corner.

"Huh." It's a sound of surprise. "How do you feel about that?"

The thing is, I don't know. I'm not sure if I'm okay with Peeta being serious. To be honest, I feel a bit scared, wondering if he _is_.

"Catnip?"

I sigh, glancing at the clock by the phone. "I should go."

"Oh."

"No," I say hastily, guilty that I brushed Gale off like that, "I have a shoot with Ajax in an hour, and the rebels brought in some stylist. Apparently I need at least forty-five minutes with the stylist to be 'usable product' for Ajax."

Gale laughs. "Okay. Say hi to the Mellarks for me."

"Will do. The same for all you soldiers there."

"All right. Bye, Catnip."

I smile wistfully, missing him. "Bye, Gale."

When I turn around, I jump. Peeta's standing there, hands in his pockets. I know he's just gotten there, though. Mostly I'm surprised, because stealth has never been Peeta's strong point. "Gale says hi," I say.

Peeta smiles. "How's he doing?"

"Fine."

He studies me for a moment before saying, "Ajax wants us at the stylists' compartment."

I make a face, which gets a laugh out of him. "You're going to get a makeover, too?"

"Why surprised?" asks Peeta with a small smirk, one that doesn't suit him much, because I don't imagine Peeta as cocky at all. "I'm so good looking you think I don't need one?"

_I _laugh this time. "No." I save the explanation. I just didn't expect the boy to need a makeover.

We find Tom on the way to the stylists. I smile at the sight of him as he rounds the corner that we're about to go past. "Hey! Little brother. Miss 'niss," he says playfully.

I'd missed Tom the while we'd been away, I realize. I remember seeing him for the first time since we got back – he happily welcomed the hug I'd thrown at him. Alone again with Peeta later, he once again expressed how much he couldn't believe that I liked his brother. There's just something about Tom that makes me forget that we're in a war. I think everyone needs that once in a while.

"How are you two lovebirds doing?" Tom says, throwing an arm around both of us.

I roll my eyes. Peeta coughs awkwardly, and I hold back from shooting him a suspicious look.

"Okay, okay," Tom says through a laugh, "awkward topic. I get it. Nice weather we have today, huh?"

"It's beautiful," I reply, amused. As if I'd seen real _weather _in the past few days...

"Where are we headed?" he asks, hopping forward and walking backwards so he's facing us but still heading the same direction.

Peeta wrinkles his nose and says, "Katniss and I are being made more beautiful."

"You, I can see why, but my little sister is beautiful as it is," says Tom, skipping back to me and returning to the original position of arm around my shoulders. "Don't you agree, brother?"

I watch Peeta's expression. He pauses. Smiles. "Definitely."

My face heats up. I decide to change the subject. "Where are you headed, Tom?"

"With you guys. I'm bored. I can watch Peeta getting makeup put on," said Tom, grinning wickedly at Peeta.

Peeta gives his brother a dirty look.

The stylist's name is Cinna, who seems to be Ajax's foil. He looks remarkably normal, in fact. He studies Peeta and me when we walk in. "Peeta," he says, after about five seconds of observing, "you can go on ahead. Portia is your stylist. She'll be taking care of you."

"I'll see you in a few," Peeta says to me. "You going to stay here, Tom?"

Tom nods, sitting in one of the chairs and propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. Cinna smiles, for the first time, and it accentuates his normalcy. He looks to Tom. "Take care you don't get footprints on my sketchbook, please, Mr. Mellark."

Tom laughs, smiling at both of us. "'Mr. Mellark'. I like you already, Mr..."

"Just 'Cinna' is fine," says the stylist, smiling back. "Katniss, why don't you sit down?"

"Erm, sure," I say reluctantly, sitting down next to Tom. "I thought I have to get ready."

"Yes; yes, you do." Cinna shrugs. "But Ajax is Capitolist. He'll be taking his time."

Tom reaches over to play with the fake flower on the coffee table. He leans back, twirling the plastic stem between his fingers. "Why are you a rebel, Cinna? Couldn't have been an easy choice, coming from the Capitol."

"I was adopted," he replies, leaning over to take his sketchbook. "My parents were extremely Capitolist, following trends and starting them if they could. Around the time I was adopted, one of the trends was..." He frowns, as if trying to figure out a word.

Prompting him, I ask, "What was a trend?"

"Being a philanthropist," says Cinna with a tired exhale. "But I guess you can say that they weren't being truly selfless, since the selflessness was for their own purposes – but I feel deep down my parents meant well. They did love me, gave me everything I wanted, but you can – as it was said a long time ago – take a boy out of the country, but you can't take a country out of the boy. At least. Not entirely. And I've always been sympathetic to the Districts... I didn't want to be kept out of the truth, like most Capitolists do."

I am interested. "Where were you from before? What happened to your parents?"

"District Twelve. I had been alive a year when my father died in a mining accident and my mother a year later from heartbreak."

I stare at him. "Really?"

"Yes. I never knew them, though." Moving on briskly, Cinna moves over to a trunk in the corner of the room, where he takes out a small pile of clothes. "This is what you're wearing."

I eye the clothes. "What is it?"

"Simple but beautiful."

It doesn't really answer my question, but all right.

They let me change in the bathroom, where I am able to study my reflection in the mirror. It is simple but beautiful: simple in the way that I could wear it out in public on average days, but it was still Capitolist. Well, at any rate, I wouldn't have seen anyone from the Seam wearing it.

I finger the skirt, frowning. I try to twirl, but it both feels awkward and is awkward looking. This isn't me. I'm not used to fashion, and glamor, and looking _pretty_. I exit the bathroom, keeping my head down.

"Oh," says Cinna, holding his arms out to me, as if to give me a hug. "The first thing that I'm going to do is get that hair out of your face."

I look to Tom nervously.

He smiles at me. "You look very beautiful, little sister."

"Thanks," I say.

Tom moves forward, putting a hand on my shoulder. Like the way I imagine a big brother would. He props my chin up. "You have a pretty little face to match, okay? Show it off."

"You know I don't do that," I say dryly.

He shakes his head, grinning at me. "But you should, Miss 'niss."

"Come here," says Cinna. "I'm going to do your hair."

"Wait," I say suddenly. "My mother. I want her to do my hair. You can see what she does, Cinna. You'll like it." Remembering what he'd said earlier, I say, "It's 'simple but beautiful'."

Cinna watches me for a long moment. "Okay. Tom, can you talk to the prep team in the next room and get them to find Katniss' mother? I'll do her makeup in the mean time."

Tom nods, pushing my chin up gently again before going out.

Cinna sets me down on the chair again and sits across from me. Then he starts putting on my makeup.

He does this in silence for a few minutes. I watch him, how his brow furrows in thought in between the face-poking. I can see myself in the mirror that stands opposite from where I'm sitting. I can see the dress, a black top with a floral print skirt. The sandals next to my bare feet. It is simple but beautiful, and it doesn't _look _right.

"Cinna?" I say, trying not to move my face.

"Yes?"

"My father died in a mining accident."

Cinna smiles sadly. "I heard."

"My mother about died from heartbreak, too," I say, which he'd probably know, if he knew that my father died. "And..."

"It's okay," says Cinna, "you don't need to talk about it."

"Your Capitol parents," I say quietly, "where are they now?"

Cinna pressed his lips together. "They're in the Capitol."

"Oh," I say quietly.

He nods, leaning back. "I begged them to come. Told them that it would be safer in District Thirteen. That the Capitol was going to be attacked, and that the city deserved it, for everything that had been happening to Panem's children... but they were scared."

"I would be, too," I say, "if I were in their place."

Cinna sighs, shrugging. "I tried. Plutarch told me that he'd do whatever he could to protect them, but either way – even if they live – they'll never be the same."

...

"Peeta?"

He gives me a smile. The two of us stand next to Ajax, who is describing the camera-work to some of his cameramen.

It's amazing how different someone can look with a bit of makeup on, along with clothes that nobody around wears. He looks like someone that everyone wants to be friend with, with styled hair, a twinkle in his eye, and a warm smile.

"Yes?" he asks. The answer comes a bit late. I wonder if he was musing about _my _look the same way I was thinking about his.

I look over at Cinna, who is discussing with Peeta's stylist what our wardrobe should look like.

"I think I'm going to like this stylist."


	26. Seventy Five

**I don't own the Hunger Games.

* * *

**

(Katniss POV)

Three more months of propos pass. I talk to the Star Squad at least five times every week, but heading into the third month, the nightmares began. My worry seeped into my dreams, giving me frightening visions of Gale's limbs getting ripped off, or Lira's guts spilling out, or... well. I'll save the gory details, but I've woken up yelling my lungs out often enough. I feel a bit sorry for Peeta, who has to deal with me and my horrors, but not just that.

The Quarter Quell reapings are in a few days. Rue has just been informed of this year's Quell theme. She's been crying herself to sleep, whimpering and thrashing as she does, and then waking up screaming. I'm surprised Peeta's still in our compartment.

"It was terrible when you two weren't here," Rue said when we came back. "The nightmares."

I'm happy to be back for reasons like Rue and Prim and Mother, but it doesn't help to know that Gale is out there, closer to death than I might be.

I'm awoken one day by Peeta gently shaking my shoulder. "Kat, wake up," he says, "it's a big day."

The words ring in my ears, processing slowly. I open my eyes, looking up at his face. I notice that he's already dressed... wearing black from head to toe. Mourning clothes. I know what day it is. He smiles sadly before leaning back to wake Rue up.

"Rue..." he murmurs.

I push the sheets off me, standing up. I rise up on my toes to see Rue, but she turns her back to us, pushing all the way to the other side of the bed, pulling her knees up to her stomach. "No," she says, choking the word out. "Not today. Leave me here."

Peeta presses his lips together. "No. Come on."

Rue tilts her head back. Her eyes shine, moist from tears. "Please, Peeta, let me stay here."

"_No_," says Peeta firmly. "You're coming to watch the reaping, whether you like it or not. Come on. Let's go."

Very easily, he steps onto the second bunk, reaching into the top bunk. Scooping Rue up in his arms as though she were a kitten, he puts her down on his bed. Rue looks like a toddler, wiping her eyes with her fists tiredly. A toddler with the experiences of someone who's been going around the sun for several decades. A toddler who knows war.

Peeta bends so that his face is level with hers, brushing her curly hair out of her face. "Hey," he says. "I'm only doing this because you have to deal with it now. Postponing the hurt only makes it worse, Rue."

I look at him, not too sure that he's only seventeen.

Rue nods, swallowing. "Yeah."

"We'll be there to deal with this. With you." He kisses her forehead. "Okay?"

"Okay," she mumbles.

Peeta smiles. "Good. Katniss, why don't you take her into the bathroom, so you two can dress up?"

I nod. "Yeah." Peeta hands me the clothes, and I take Rue's hand, guiding her across the hall. I'm about to let Rue go into the change room by herself, but she stops in front of the door.

"Katniss?" she says, looking up at me.

"Yes?" I say, thinking absent-mindedly that I ought to brush her hair later...

"How can you deny loving a boy like that?" she asks.

I'm silenced. Without waiting for a response, she disappears to change.

...

Districts Four, Seven, and Eleven are in full uprising, but they have Peacekeepers, and to many normal people, the rebellion isn't worth their lives. I sit with my family, Rue, Peeta, and Peeta's family as we gather in the common area with several other of the people from District Thirteen. We are a sea of black today. Thirteen recognizes this day as a day of mourning – backwards from what Panem is _required _to do: celebrate the Games.

District One. A four year old, replaced by a rebel eighteen year old. A middle-aged woman.

District Two. A pair of siblings from a family of ten aspiring Careers.

When we get to Four, a bold rebel is shot in the head. The Capitol doesn't even censor it. The message is clear. _We are still in power. Do not cross us. We will destroy you if that is what it takes._

Everything is peaceful – as far as peaceful can get today, anyway – until we get to Seven, where the people refuse to quiet. They are screaming, shaking knives and pitchforks and any spare weapons they can find. Off camera, the Peacekeepers find some way to silent them. In the corner, the camera fails to hide one Peacekeeper dragging off a bleeding little girl.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

Nine out of the current twenty-two are rebels.

I sense Rue shivering in Peeta's arms as the camera pans over the possible tributes. Among them, her siblings and parents.

Prim looks past my lap. She smiles sadly – not at me – and crawls over to Rue, taking her hand. Rue looks at my sister and returns the humorless smile.

There are only Rue's and Seeder's families, as well as some others of already-dead tributes. Chaff has no immediate family left. Many of the possible tributes are middle-aged, with families of their own. The odds are entirely that at least one of Rue's siblings or parents will be chosen.

"Remember," Prim whispers to Rue, "any of them will be protected in the arena, okay?"

Rue nods, biting her lip. Coin talked to her this morning; I think she's ready for the inevitable... but there's no knowing how she'll feel at the end of this reaping.

The girl is picked first in Eleven. A woman with golden brown skin, hazel eyes, and long, wavy brown hair is picked. She has Rue's face, only aged and wrinkled.

She is replaced by the one rebel we have in Eleven, who took the name of someone who recently died. She is not the true family member of a victor.

Rue's relieved sigh is still shaky.

"She's fine, see?" Prim says reassuringly. "Your mom's fine."

"My mom and my sisters are fine," says Rue. "I still have two younger brothers and my dad."

In less than thirty seconds, I feel like I can hear the entire country in uproar. My brain rattles from the disbelief and anger and worry and

_He's seven years old!_

Rue hasn't started crying. She stares at the ground as the people swarm around her, whispering words of comfort that probably go through one of her ears and out the other. She has frozen, eyes flickering back between one point on the floor and the other. She doesn't seem sad. Just empty. And then I wonder how I even thought for a moment that I know what she's going through.

Then, she stands up. Without saying a word, she walks away. We listen to her robotic footsteps as she leaves, moving like someone had removed her brain but kept the heart running, despite being already broken.

…

Coin drums her fingers against the desk, putting all her weight on her palms. Her hair falls down the side of her face in straight sheets as she leans forward, shoulders stiff and hunched. It's her, me, Peeta, and the rebel victors in Command, awaiting the plans.

Finally, Coin says something.

"We have to wait."

"Wait," repeats Rue. I can already feel her temper igniting. "My brother is going to be potentially killed within the next few weeks, Coin."

"He will be protected," says Coin lightly, looking up. She's speaking cautiously; I think she's thinking the same thing I am. Rue is stretched beyond her measures. Let go, and she'll snap.

Rue stands up, ramming her small fists into the table. "You _don't know what it's like_! The Capitol can do anything to him. He won't be able to know what to do, Coin, he's _seven_!"

Coin rubs her eyes. "Soldier Graveolens, calm down."

"Wait," says Rue suddenly. "There aren't any victors left in Eleven. Who's going to mentor –"

"Chaff already flew in this morning," interrupts Beetee Dobbs. A victor from District Three. "He'll take care of him."

Rue sinks in her seat slightly, just a little bit eased by this piece of news. "But... Chaff. What..."

"He understood the dangers he could potentially face when he volunteered to return to the Districts," says Coin coolly.

Beetee takes a few steps to stand next to Rue, silently handing her a folded paper. We all watch as Rue unfolds it slowly – her fingers shaking slightly – and then begins to read. Her eyes go over the paper several times, reading once or twice before sighing.

"Chaff..." Rue mumbles again quietly. Although no one asked her, she clears her throat and reads aloud, "He said, 'I'm an old man. Russul is young, with lots of years ahead of him. I'm going to do all I can to keep it that way until his time is spent.'"

I bite my lip, instinctively looking to Peeta. He puts his arms around me – a hug that I hadn't asked for, but appreciated anyway – and says quietly in my ear, "It's okay. We'll be all right."

Coin clears her throat loudly, and all of us look to her. Peeta still holds on to me, and I'm thankful for it. "Even with Russul being protected, we're still going to do our best to help. We plan on breaking the rebels out of the arena as soon as we can get assembled, and get the group in the arena assembled. Obviously there will be no propos for this. As far as anyone in Panem knows, District Thirteen is not doing anything for the Quarter Quell."

"Do we know what we're doing?" asks Seeder, a District Eleven victor. "In order to break them out?"

Coin frowns. "Not yet. We have to wait for the Capitol's plans to be set-up, and we also have to wait until we get them. We obviously have spies within the government, but it's still not easy to get those plans... until then, all we can do is cross our fingers and wait."

"Permission to speak," says Peeta slowly.

Coin turns to him. "... yes, Soldier Mellark?"

"May we have the Star Squad back in Thirteen?"

Again, Peeta Mellark surprises me. This boy continues to confuse me.

"Why?" asks Coin.

"I know we need the propos, but it's been three months," says Peeta. "We need new material of them, and you aren't going to get it out on the fake battlefield. I have a feeling the whole shooting thing isn't working properly. We can get interviews, little segments of the victors telling the country what they need to hear: _they're still here_. If there's anything Panem really wants to see, it's that we're all sticking together. People from all the Districts, standing up against the Capitol."

The president of District Thirteen eyes him. "I think you might have a point. I'll talk to Boggs in the morning."

Peeta nods once. "Because you know, at this point, I'd be sick of seeing war, if I were at home. I'd just want hope."

* * *

"Russel" is named after "Russula graveolens", an edible species of fungus. (Ha.)

_**Review, please!**_


	27. Little Birds and Secrets Told

**I don't own the Hunger Games.

* * *

**

(Peeta POV)

"Soldier Mellark? Phone for you."

First: It's really hot this morning. Then, there's a soldier waving a phone in my face. Katniss is snoring, and so is Rue. Which is weird and astonishing, because it's been only two days since the announcement of "the Breakout Plan". But I'm not complaining.

I nod, feeling extremely groggy. I croak, "Who is it?"

"Soldier Hawthorne," whispers the soldier.

I take the phone and walk outside, followed shortly by the man who gave me the phone. He leaves to go back down to the reception room. "Hello?" It still comes out hoarse, so I clear my throat.

"Good morning, Soldier Mellark."

"How's it going, brother?" I ask.

"Sorry to wake you. It's going good. Boggs announced the mission's termination last night, but he wouldn't let us call you guys. Said it was too late to call."

"So you're coming home," I conclude through my sleepy haze.

Gale hesitates. "Well, we're going back to Thirteen."

"Well, yeah." Gale doesn't like calling Thirteen 'home'.

After a short pause, he asks, "Katniss isn't up yet?"

"No, and she's snoring, by some miracle. So I'll keep her and Rue sleeping for as long as possible."

Gale laughs a little. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Judging by her lack of reaction when she got off the phone with you yesterday morning," I say, "you haven't exactly told her anything."

There's another pause – longer this time – until Gale says something. He sighs. "I just... it doesn't seem like something you should say not face-to-face."

I snort. "It also seems like something you should say not after three months of absence."

"You just don't want anymore competition," says Gale accusingly.

"Can you blame a man? I mean, come on," I say, smiling.

Gale laughs. "You know, I'm actually looking forward to seeing you again, Peeta."

"Don't change the subject."

I picture him rolling his eyes. "Okay, okay. I promise I'll tell her as soon as I get home. I'll be home by tomorrow night, anyway."

"Does Lira know you haven't told her yet? That can make a girl suspicious, you know."

"Yeah, because you're such an expert," he says dryly. "But I know, I know. And no, I haven't. Told."

"You're kind of asking for a death wish. And you're dragging me into it, because you told me, and I'm not telling Katniss."

"I did _not _tell you," Gale says quickly. "I told Tom. Who's a – a – big mouth."

I snicker. "I guess I'm not really going to argue there, but... still. I know; Katniss doesn't. That is a dangerous place to be."

"Can you tell her _for _me?" he asks.

I burst out laughing. "Do you _really _think that would be a smart thing to do, Gale?"

Gale sighs. "All right. Okay. I'll tell her. I will."

"When you're thirty."

"Stop that! I will! And I'll even tell Lira right now."

In the background, I hear Lira say, "Tell me what?"

"Nothing, honey."

I smile and say under my breath, "'Honey?'"

"Shut up," Gale says.

Indignantly, Lira says, "What did you say?"

"I was talking to Peeta!" says Gale hastily. "It's okay. I'll talk to you later, Lira. I swear. Once I'm done talking to Peeta."

"Tell her I say hi," I say.

"He says hi."

Lira says something in the background – in normal tones, so I can't hear – and Gale says dryly, "She says, 'Get off the phone so I can -'" His voice becomes fainter, so I'm guessing he held the phone away a bit, "Do I have to say it?"

There's some scuffling.

Lira says, "Get off the phone so my honeybear can have some breakfast, Mellark."

I smile. I know Lira only calls him stupid things like that to tease him. "Yeah, it's okay. Tell him I'll talk to him when he gets back."

"Will pass on the message," says Lira brightly.

"See you guys tomorrow."

"Bye!"

As soon as I hear the dial tone, the door behind me opens. I turn around, and my heart begins beating quickly. It's funny how she can get me like this, even when she's just gotten out of bed.

Her hair sticks up and out everywhere. One sleeve of her long-sleeve flannel pyjamas is rolled up; the other falls past her wrist, so the neckline is tilted. One side of the shirt is tucked into the pants, the other hangs out. But she's had a nice sleep, and it shows. Rubbing her eyes, she says through her yawn, "Who was that?" It takes a while to process what she just said.

"I – it was –" _Get a grip, Mellark, _I think. "Uh, that was Gale."

Clearly disappointed that she missed him, Katniss nods. "Oh."

"Oh," I say, "they'll be home tomorrow night."

Her eyes light up. "Really?"

"Yeah. They got the news last night."

"That's _great_!" she says.

I smile. "Past few hours seem to be going well, so far. You and Rue slept for longer than five hours straight."

Katniss laughs. She turns back to the closed door. "She's still sleeping. I guess we should let her."

"Yeah," I agree, nodding. "There's still almost two hours until breakfast."

"I'll see if I can get some more sleep in."

The two of us walk back into the compartment, where Rue continues to snore peacefully. Smiling at the direction of the top bunk, Katniss says, "I can't wait until this is all over..."

"And then she could sleep like that all of the time," I say.

Katniss hesitates in responding. She moves over to her bed, standing on her tiptoes to see Rue. "Yeah..."

"Well," I say, following her. I lie down on Katniss' bunk, hands behind my head, yawning. "I guess, most of the time."

Katniss nods, crawling beside me and lying down. I am entirely too aware of her warmth. She murmurs, "She'll never be the same; she'll never... sleep like a little kid should."

I look over at her. "Neither will you."

"And neither will you," she points out.

I smile, looking back up. "Yeah. But maybe it's for the better." I think about it for a moment, then correct myself, "It is. It will be for the better."

"I hope so," Katniss says, rolling onto her side. After a beat, she says, "You know, in Command that day, you spoke so well. When you were talking about why the Star Squad should come back here."

"Did I?" I think about it, not able to find anything extraordinary about the way I talked.

"Tell me a story," says Katniss.

I chuckle. "What kind of story?"

"A fairytale. Pretend I'm Rue," she says, pulling the sheets over her shoulders.

"Okay." I smile, closing my eyes and imagining a story. I roll over to my side. "Close your eyes."

Katniss' eyes close.

I'm sure she feels ridiculous, but it's good for her. She needs to be able to ask for fairytales once in a while.

"There once was a little bird," I say slowly. "She was born in a tree where the branches intertwined, like a cage. Whoever tried to escape the tree died, never to see the light outside it, because predators would always stop the birds from enjoying flight under the sun. Some birds were closer to the outside – to the edge, to the light – than the others, and they blocked all the light for the ones close to the middle of the tree.

"All the birds, so stifled and so in pain, found that they could no longer sing, like they were made to. However, the little bird – with feathers darkened from the endless night, but eyes bright, like stars in the curtain of midnight – was different. _She _sang. She sang because she knew she could, and she loved it. She was her own guiding voice and her own guiding light. She needed no one to lead her. But she was still small, and her voice could only be heard by so many. But those who heard were inspired.

"They sang with her, backing up her song until everyone heard it. The privileged ones near the light began to join in the song as well, until the predators outside heard it. Determined to find the source of the noise, they burst through the branches, cracking through the webbed leaves, letting the light flood in. Singing in joy, the birds swarmed in between the predators, free."

For having come up with that on the spot, I'm quite impressed with myself. I turn to look at Katniss, eyes half-closed. She smiles. I watch as sleep takes her completely...

When I wake up next – to Rue this time – I find that someone is beside me. I look at the head tucked under my chin and can hardly believe it's Katniss.

Rue smiles at me as Katniss mumbles, "Free... little bird. Free."

...

As expected, Lira was not very happy with the idea of Gale holding back from telling Katniss. As Gale goes to greet Katniss, she says, "Why wouldn't he tell her? _Why wouldn't he tell her_?"

"I thought you said you hadn't gotten your hopes up," I point out. "I thought you were ready for anything like this."

Lira frowns. "He made a commitment. To me. To us. To Gale-Lira. It's unfair and rude to me to keep going on like this." She spins on me. "And you! For not telling Katniss about Gale and me! And that you love her! This is just ridiculous!"

"Lira, calm down," I say.

"Don't you tell me to calm down," she mutters hatefully, glaring in Katniss' general direction.

Is this what happens when girls get boyfriends? If so, I might change my mind about Katniss.

Lira sighs. "Okay, okay, let me stop being all self-centered for a sec; _why _haven't you told Katniss, again?"

"Because it will make everything awkward," I say. They feel like scripted words, now, from the many times I've said it. "_She _is scared of loving people, Lira, and I refuse to force anything onto her."

"So for the rest of your life, you're going to play it safe. You're going to watch Katniss Everdeen grow into an old maid. You're going to never be able to hold her or kiss her or –"

"Don't even go there," I mutter.

Lira smiles. "My point is, you shouldn't live like this. Not if you've loved someone for as long as you've loved her."

I shake my head. "You know what? Don't meddle."

"Don't change the subject."

Rolling my eyes at her, I say, "Lira, come on. Leave it."

Lira punches my arm. Hard. And it hurts.

"Ouch!"

"I'm leaving it for now," she says, seething, "but I'm a girl with a short patience and a short fuse. You _don't _want to keep brushing off me, and _Katniss_, like this."

I smirk at her. "You just don't want anymore competition."

"Can you blame a girl?" Lira says, glowering at me.

I burst out laughing, much to her bafflement, but it's okay.

The two of us look on as Gale tells Katniss the news. I stare at her face, trying to decipher what she's feeling, but it's the old Katniss' face.

My Katniss is different. My Katniss, the one who lets herself smile. The one who realizes that there's more to life than feeding her family. The one who runs into District Four despite the orders. The one who brushes back my hair with tenderness that doesn't belong to a hunter.

The one listening to Gale right now is the old Katniss, who belongs to Prim and Gale only, who smiles only in the woods. The one that sits by herself, refusing to live. The one that won't show anyone anything but a scowl, because she refuses to let anyone know that deep down, she's stifled and pained and can no longer sing, like she was meant to. My Katniss is the one who sings so beautifully that the birds stop to listen.

But that's not the one talking to Gale right now. Her expression is blank. Nonexistent. I don't know what she's thinking or feeling. Is she upset? Is she happy? Is she disappointed or is she...

Gale nods one at Katniss one last time and then gives Lira and me a small smile before leaving. Lira goes out the room as well, except at a different door.

Katniss stands there for a moment, staring at the ground. Reluctantly, I walk up to her. "Hey."

"Hey," she says. "Did you know?"

Deciding that I ought to be honest, I say, "Yes."

"You must be disappointed."

I raise a brow. "Why on earth would I be disappointed?"

"I thought..." She tilts her head. "You liked Lira?"

I burst out laughing. I can't help it. I didn't think she _believed _me that first day, when I was trying to make her jealous; maybe she truly isn't a people person.

Katniss frowns, looking at me. "What are you laughing at?" She seems a bit insulted that I'm laughing, actually.

Through my boy giggles, I say, "Lira? I don't like Lira. I couldn't like anyone who understands me as well as she does."

"So, you don't like her?" says Katniss, raising a brow.

"I definitely do not like Lira." I shake my head, amused. "She makes me uncomfortable. She thinks the same way I do. Plus, she's a bit overbearing sometimes..."

Katniss sighs. "Most times, I don't understand you, Peeta."

I smile.

Exactly my point.

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_**Review, please!**_

(I'm on spring break, if anyone's wondering... ;) )


	28. Wingless

I know what's going to happen from here to the next three chapters. (Random piece of little information of the day.) Feel free to speculate. :p

**I don't own the Hunger Games.

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(Peeta POV)

"Peeta?"

I roll over on my bed, easily awoken. Katniss is standing next to my bed, clutching her blanket around her.

"I can't sleep," she says. She's been doing this every now and then over the past week. Not that I mind. I move over, pushing myself up against the wall. She settles down next to me and then tilts her head up to look at me before asking, "I have a question."

I nod slowly. See, sometimes, she _truly _can't sleep. Other times, she has something to say to me. Like right now. "Yes?"

"Do you ever consider... how... just _not _being here would be so much easier?" she whispers.

I stare at her for a long moment, trying to figure out what she means by that. Where else could you go? "How do you mean?"

"Not... existing."

My eyes widen, realizing what she's trying to say. I do a double-take, pushing myself up onto my elbow. "No. I do not think how that would be easier. It isn't. Please, don't even – don't consider –"

"I'm not!" she says hastily, pulling the blankets to her chin. "I'm just thinking, okay?"

"Don't ever even think about taking your life," I whisper, pushing hair away from her face, brushing my palm on her cheek. "Please."

She looks at me in some confusion, but nods slowly. "I know. I promise I wouldn't. I have... family, remember?"

"Then why..." Why even ask me that? I settle down again, but nonetheless, I feel kind of shaken.

It's funny. All this time, I'd never _really _considered what it'd be like to lose Katniss. I know I'd be... upset, but the idea of it has truly hit me for the first time... especially when she's telling me – even if it is hypothetically – an idea of her taking her _own _life. That's even worse. I remind myself that she would never leave Prim or her mother or Gale. Or, maybe, even me.

Katniss sighs, rolling over to her back. "I was just thinking if _you _ever thought about it."

"I've thought about it being easier – whether it is easier – but I've never considered actually... myself..." I stutter over my words, unsure about how to talk. So much for that "way with words" Katniss thinks I have.

She tucks her head under my chin. "Okay."

I put my arms around her and say weakly, "Can we not talk about this?"

"Sure," says Katniss willingly, but I feel like this isn't going to be the last time she talks to me about it. "Will you tell me a story?"

"Sure. What do you want?"

"A real one. A funny story," she says.

Smiling, I say, "Hmm... I don't know if I can think of anything. Well. Gale called Lira 'honey'. That was funny." I'll be honest; I just want to see her reaction.

She smiles back at me. "Yeah?"

"Lira called him 'honeybear'."

Giggling in the way that Katniss never does, she says, "She probably just does that to annoy him."

I nod. "She does." Shifting so I can see her face, I frown in thought. "Well... there was this one time. I was only ten or eleven. So, Tom was maybe thirteen. It was the first time he ever really noticed a girl – or at least told us about it. Well, he never told us about it... but anyway, there was this girl. She was never in a class with Tom, and if she was, Tom never noticed her. We were at the school fair, see, and Cee – the girl – was helping with a basketball sort of booth.

"Eddy told Tom that if he could manage to impress Cee by playing less than three games, Eddy would take Tom's shifts for the entire week. Tom didn't even like Cee then, but I guess, along the way... he did. So, he walked right up to her booth, paid for three games, and before he started, Cee told him, 'You better win something. That's a meal for my parents back home, what you paid.' So obviously, she's from the Seam.

"Then Tom gave her a smile, like he's Mr. Heartbreaker, and just nods. After two games, he wins two small teddybears and a larger dog stuffed animal. Just as Cee's about to hand him the basketball for the third game, he says, 'No thanks.' Cee looks all confused, takes the money for the third game out of the cashier, and then he says, 'No, keep it.'

"Cee stares at him for a second, then looks at Eddy and me. Eddy just kind of shrugs and says, 'It's his money.' Cee shakes her head, pushing the money in my direction, as if I'd take it. I don't. Tom smiles at Cee. 'Not a meal. Maybe part of it.' And then he gives her the big dog and one of the teddybears. 'Thanks for the games.' And then we walk away, and she stares after us. Kind of in disbelief. She kissed Tom a week later."

Katniss smiles sleepily. "That was sweet, not funny."

"It was the only one I could think of," I say with a shrug.

"I've never met this Cee," she mumbles, "which is weird..."

"No, you wouldn't have. She moved to the community home not too soon later."

Katniss stares up at me. I avoid her eyes, because I know what she's thinking. I had hoped she wouldn't remember that she had never really met Cee. The Seam was a tightly-knit enough community for everyone to know everyone's names, at least; she would _know _Cee just a little. But she doesn't. She notes quietly, "The community home was destroyed."

I purse my lips. I know that the community home was destroyed. "You should go to sleep."

She stares up at me for a long time, realizing what I haven't said. Without saying a word, Katniss nods. She closes her eyes, but her eyes are closed too tightly. She's still a bit distressed, and I can see it.

Fully aware that she is still awake, I kiss her forehead. I can't help it.

I only catch her eyes flicker open in shock for just a moment. Then, I close my eyes as well. "Good night."

"Good night," she whispers.

...

Do you know how they usually start off the Games? The Gamemakers put the tributes on metal plates, give them sixty seconds to escape? This year, they decide to do something different.

It almost feels like President Snow was listening to me when I told Katniss that bedtime story.

Remember that story, and how the birds flew past the predators to be free?

Well, what if they don't have wings?

Go on, give it a thought. Think about it. _Think about it_.

That's right.

Eleven hovercrafts dangle high above the arena, buzzing loudly in their black circle, inciting anxiety in everyone watching the Games. In a normal Games, the hovercrafts would drop cylinders of tributes onto the metal plates, and then let the Games begin. But this is no normal Hunger Games. This is a Quarter Quell, amidst a rebellion.

The Capitol has no intention of playing nice today.

All at once, twenty-two shapes are flung out of the hovercrafts, completely free-falling.

"If he was just going to exterminate them all at once, why do the theatrics?" Rue screams, jumping up. "How does he expect anyone to survive that height?"

"They have parachutes," whispers Katniss, so quietly that only I can hear. Then, loudly, she tells Rue, "Rue, their packs are parachutes."

Rue spins around. "How does Snow expect a seven year old boy to know how to work a parachute?"

Katniss looks at me sadly as Rue turns back to the screen.

_Exactly_, I think. _He doesn't expect that._

Four parachutes burst open. The Careers, and two rebels. I see the rebel "from" District Eleven – Loranne – navigate her way to Russul. The cameras zoom in on her but can't catch her words. She holds Russul's hand as they descend at an incredible speed. Loranne yells something in Russul's direction, and he nods, looking horrified.

When Loranne lets go, Russul opens his parachute.

Five tributes, fumbling with their packs, are too late. Rue flings herself into Katniss' arms, looking away from the screen. Katniss shuts her eyes tightly as the camera pans downward – my eyes close as well. I don't think I could stand looking.

After a few seconds, Tom puts a hand on my shoulder. "You can look now."

We watch as Loranne drives Russul out of the bloodbath at the Cornucopia after grabbing a pack. The cameras focus as the tributes fight. Blood and injuries everywhere. It feels as though they are particularly gory this year, but I know that's just me thinking about how the Capitol is particularly angry. The minutes pass slowly, with Katniss' grip on my hand like a vice. Normally, I wouldn't complain, but I'm sad because of what brought it on.

Six more lost. Already, that's just eleven left.

Russul and Loranne make camp far away from the remaining eleven tributes. As Loranne sets up a small tent, the camera keeps Russul in the corner of the frame. I'm able to get a good look at him because of that: he doesn't look too much like Rue, save for the skin tone and the shapes in his face. His eyes are smaller, and his hair is more brown, more like his skin. It's cut to a thin layer on his head.

"You should've just let me splat," he says suddenly, breaking the silence.

Loranne looks at him, pausing from her work. "What?"

Russul presses his lips together. "You should have let me die."

"Don't say that," says Loranne gently, turning to face him completely.

"I'm not gonna survive, anyway," he says, gathering a fistful of grass in his hand and pulling it out of the ground. Russul, it seems, doesn't understand the seriousness of saying something like that. I'm almost glad.

Loranne crawls to him and takes his face in her hands. "Listen to me. You are going to survive, okay? I am determined to make sure that you survive. More than anything right now, Russul. You have so many great adventures ahead of you. This isn't going to be one of them."

"But everybody's a grown-up in the arena," Russul says. "I don't stand a chance."

Smiling a little, Loranne says darkly, "Oh, trust me, Russul, by the time you get out of here, you'll practically be a grown-up." She goes back to setting up the tent, but she keeps her eye on Russel.

"That's what happened to Rue."

"You think so?" says Loranne.

Russul nods. "Mama says so. Says she grew up too fast." He watches Loranne, who doesn't respond. "But Loranne..."

"Yes?"

"If I'm going to live, doesn't that mean..." Russul frowns, looking at her.

Loranne stands up, brushing the dirt off her knees. "Bedtime. Go on. I'll keep watch."

Russul decides not to argue. "Good night, Loranne."

"Good night," says Loranne. When Russul disappears inside the tent, she rubs her forehead. Then, it's almost as if she looks straight at the camera before looking away and murmuring, "This boy will not die for the rebellion, no matter what it takes. Count on it, Snow."

And with that, the cameras cut.

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**Review, please!**


	29. Peeta's Girl

invisibleme1835: Eleven :) Russul is Rue's youngest brother. 'I see the rebel "from" District Eleven – Loranne – navigate her way to Russul.' Loranne is actually a rebel from Thirteen, however. :)

**I don't own the Hunger Games.

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(Katniss POV)

"Hot chocolate, hot chocolate!"

I turn around to see Tom carrying a drink tray of – can you guess? – hot chocolate. I remain seated, though, because Rue is sitting next to me. Peeta and I don't like leaving her by herself. She seems so fragile nowadays: she hasn't been saying much, which worries more of Peeta than me. I don't feel very anxious about it. She's been eating. She's totally healthy. I know the real symptoms of heartbreak, and what Rue's going through right now isn't that. She's sad, yeah, but she's not letting that stop her from living. (Sleeping is a different story, obviously. Nights are just as painful as they've always been.)

The screen in front of us is black. They're broadcasting the Games in about fifteen minutes.

Tom comes up beside me, bending down to offer Rue and me some hot chocolate. "Can you believe it?" he says with a small smile. "I didn't even have to sneak this. Coin was in the kitchen when I wanted to get the drinks, and she just said to take it!"

I return the smile, only because scowling would be rude. "Thanks." I hand Rue a cup. She holds it in her hands, fingers overlapping. Her eyes remain glazed, looking at the floor.

Tom looks like he's trying to smile, trying to ease the scene.

Either way, I appreciate his efforts.

"Tom?" I say suddenly, as he's about to leave.

I can hear him stop in his tracks. "Yes, Miss 'niss?"

I turn around to face him. He's looking at me expectantly. Reluctantly, I whisper, "Peeta told me about Cee."

You can see it in the way he suddenly changes: his muscles tense, his eyes flicker away, his faint smile disappears. "Oh." Tom licks his lips. This is the Tom I don't know, with no confidence and happiness, with all the walls let down. He looks away, turning his head the opposite direction. "You don't have to feel sorry for me. It was a long time ago. I'd forgotten about her, you know, it was –"

"Tom," I say abruptly. He stops, looking at me. "I don't feel sorry for you."

"Oh."

"It's okay to be sad about it," I say. The words don't feel right in my mouth. They feel like something Peeta would say. This isn't my job, to make people feel better. I have a feeling that Peeta's never extended a hand to his brother this way, though. Their relationship doesn't work that way.

Peeta _is _rubbing off on me.

"I..." Tom hesitates. "I don't even..."

"Even if you didn't care about her recently, you did once," I say gently. "And that's enough to make you sad. She was your first kiss, wasn't she? First girl you really paid attention to?"

Tom laughs hollowly. "Peeta told you that, too?"

"Kind of. He never said specifically," I say.

Tom closes his eyes. Then, half-smiling, he chokes, "Can I have a hug?"

Same old Tom. I laugh a little and stand up to give him a hug.

"I'm here for you, brother," I say with a grin.

Tom laughs. "Thanks, little sister. Same goes to you." Wiping his eyes, he hastily goes to hand out the rest of the hot chocolates.

Peeta comes near just then, snatching a hot chocolate from Tom's tray as he passes. He raises a brow at me. "What was that about?"

I smile. "Nothing. You know, you're lucky to have a brother. Like Tom, that is."

"Am I, really," says Peeta, clearly confused. I just give him a small shrug. And then, because he's Peeta and he understands things that normal people don't usually, he says, "Oh."

I look at him, raising my eyebrows.

"You talked to him about Cee."

I smile and shrug again.

Peeta smiles back at me. "You know, I think he's really happy to have you as a 'little sister'. I think he really considers you as part of the family."

I look around to where the Mellarks are sitting and then back to Peeta. "Trust me, it can feel like that sometimes, with you and Tom. But..."

"She'll come around," says Peeta instantly.

I kind of doubt it.

When Loranne and Russul wake up on the second day of the Games, Loranne immediately decides that they can't go on like that. It would be unsafe to have both of them asleep at the same time, but Russul can't keep watch, since he's... well, seven. So, Loranne sets up a scene with one of the other rebels from District Four: a nineteen year-old boy named Michel.

Michel and Loranne begin fighting after she pushes Russul out of the way. When Michel fakes losing, he says heavily, "Okay, okay. Alliance?"

Loranne pretends to hesitate.

"I promise!" says Michel earnestly. "I won't try to hurt you."

Loranne backs away and then says dryly, "Promises are meant to be broken, kid."

Michel smiles. "Yeah, well."

"Russul," says Loranne, "we're all right."

Rue's little brother comes out from his hiding place behind the tree, looking timidly up at Michel. Again, acting to be surprised, Michel looks to Loranne. "You have the kid."

Loranne laughs. "Listen, Michel, you're as much of a kid to me as Russul is."

"He's just going to hold everyone back," says Michel. Loranne frowns and opens her mouth to say something, but then Michel jumps. "Ow!"

Russul holds another stone in his hand, ready to chuck it at Michel again. "No one's _asking _you to stay," he says indignantly. "We're inviting you to join us."

Michel raises a brow, clearly amused. "Okay. I get the point." He holds his hand out for Russul to shake. "Allies?"

Giving the hand a wary look for about three seconds, Russul nods. "Fine." He shakes.

And almost instantly after that, the familiar silver parachutes fall from out of the sky. "Already?" says Loranne. Her tone is impressed, but everyone in Thirteen knows what it really is: excitement.

The plans have been in order since the interviews a few days ago, but today, we need to put it in place. The bread that they're getting now is code for the time of the rescue. The district where the bread originates indicates the day. (Its tinted green, like the bread from District Four.) We're rescuing them on the fourth day – two days from today. Then, the number of rolls indicates the hour: twelve.

Loranne counts the breads carefully, almost obsessively.

"What are you doing, Loranne?" says Russul, baffled.

"Just counting," says Loranne. "Four for each of us. We should ration it."

"So we have twelve?" Michel asks.

Loranne nods. "Twelve," she confirms, handing one to Michel and Russul each.

"Smells like home," Michel notes carefully.

"Yep," says Loranne, nodding and munching on hers.

Michel looks at Loranne for a while longer before nodding. "Well, we're set for the day, then."

Loranne smiles wryly. "Sounds simple."

"It is," says Michel with a small laugh. "Until it isn't."

...

At around sunset, Coin allows Rue and me out from the underground. We bring Peeta with us – "for protection," we tell Coin – but really, Rue just wants to be alone. So Peeta and I let her. She kicks around pebbles, murmuring quietly to no one...

"You know, I think she blames herself," I tell Peeta quietly.

Peeta raises a brow. "You think?"

"Yeah. She thinks she could have done something. Brought her family to Thirteen..." I say slowly. I think this because it's what I would be thinking. Rue and I aren't too different in that way. The most important thing to us is our family's safety, and what throws us over the edge is when that safety is threatened. The first instinct is always to blame yourself, because the immediate thought is almost all the time, _You could have done something_.

"Should we talk to her?" Peeta asks.

It's weird to have Peeta asking me what to do in this scenario. Usually, he's the one with the _real understanding _of people.

I shrug. "I don't know. I say we give it a while. If all goes according to plan –"

"– and let's hope it does –" mutters Peeta.

"– then her family is going to be safe within a few days," I say. We're breaking out the rebels in the arena in two days, but the remainder of her family is coming to Thirteen by tomorrow night. Hopefully.

Peeta sighs, frowning.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"I just think that it's not that good of an idea," he admits. "We can't evacuate everyone."

I give him a sidelong glance, a bit irritated by that comment because I've been putting myself in Rue's position – imagining what it would be like to be targeted, to have my family as bait – and I'm taking it personally. "Only the important people, Peeta."

"Everyone's important, Katniss."

I'm irritated again; only, this time, I'm irritated because it's true.

Suddenly, I'm thinking of Cee and how she was important to Tom and how there's nothing Tom can do about it now... and then my thoughts wander. "Peeta?"

"That's my name."

I smile. "I was just wondering – we talked a long time ago..."

"Kat, we talk a lot."

I roll my eyes. "Peeta!"

He laughs. "Sorry. Go ahead."

"You said you had a crush on someone. That..." I hesitate, because I'm scared of what the answer might be. "That she didn't like the idea of having a boyfriend. And I thought that was Lira."

Peeta nods slowly. "Yeah..."

"But it wasn't."

"It wasn't."

"Who was it?" I ask. It comes out softly. I think I still don't want to know what the answer might be, but I'm not sure why. I guess I might be a bit scared that what I have with Peeta will be lost when he gets a girlfriend. I mean, already, I'm losing what little I have with Gale because of Lira. I am happy, though, that he's turned away from me and is with someone else. Even better that it's someone I like. But Peeta's different; we've been good friends the past few weeks... through a lot. What happens if another girl gets in between?

Peeta frowns, looking down at his feet. "Kat, I'm pretty sure, that same day... I also asked you to leave it."

"Yeah. That day," I say.

"It's not important," he says. He said that when we last talked about this, too.

I cross my arms. "You were really upset that day, Peeta. You went by yourself for a few _hours_. And then that day at mealtime? You looked sick. Like you wanted to barf."

Peeta shrugs. "Well, that was a while ago. Four months, isn't it?"

I'm exasperated and about to argue, but then I ask myself: _why _am I exasperated? Peeta says it doesn't matter, so it shouldn't matter, right?

I open my mouth to say something else, but then Rue comes up to us. "I'm done," she announces quietly.

"Okay," says Peeta. "Let's go get ready for '_22:00 – Bathing_'."

As the three of us descend back down into District Thirteen, I take a moment to muse over the small... spat with Peeta.

I wasn't nearly this upset when Gale told me about Lira. I was _happy _when Gale told me about Lira. Because the chances of the Gale-Katniss dynamic returning back to normal were enlarged. Now, Gale didn't have to think about being in love with me, because he has Lira. With Peeta, though, and him not telling me the truth – because I know he isn't; if he weren't lying, he would tell me outright – it's just bothering me to no end.

And then...

I have to wonder...

What if the reason he won't tell me is if because the girl he likes is me?

I know nothing about boys, and the idea of one liking me is just... stupid. But this isn't just one, just a normal boy. This is Peeta, the kid from the town who could have any girl, be friends with any girl... and yet, he approached me. He welcomed me. He stood up for me against his mother. He let me be part of his family, his life. He willingly wakes up three, four times in the night to comfort me... lets me sleep in his arms so the nightmares go away.

And then my mind runs away from me: _Why not? _Why not? This is Peeta, after all. He's done all of that, and, if I'm right, he even likes me. It wouldn't be any different from the propos we've been doing the past few months, except it would be real, and I'd be comfortable with it.

Well, would I? Would I be comfortable with having Peeta as... more than what he is now?

"Katniss?"

I look up, startled. Peeta tilts his head sideways.

"You look a bit constipated." He smiles. "You okay?"

I smile. "I'm fine."

No. It was a strange thought... I would definitely not be comfortable with it. _Remember Rue? How it would feel like to have people you love as bait? _I can't risk loving any more people... especially not Peeta. I can't risk losing him. Losing anyone.

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**Review, please!**


	30. Bride and Groom

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

(Katniss POV)

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"This is terrible timing."

I glance at Rue and want to agree, but I kind of _want _this to happen. Plus, saying otherwise is a bit rude.

"Can't we just wait until the other rebels get here?" Rue begs.

Peeta shakes his head, I think because Finnick looks a bit upset and can't exactly explain. "Rue, Finnick and Annie are both going on the Break-out Mission. It's a risk. They want to be married... just in case."

Rue presses her lips together. "Fine." She stalks away.

I look helplessly toward Finnick and Annie. "I... I _am _really happy for you two."

Annie smiles. "Thank you, Katniss."

"Peeta," says Finnick, turning to him, "Prim tells us you used to bake, back in District Twelve. Annie and I would love it if you made our cake. We'll even ask Coin not to get in the way."

Peeta smiles – like, _really _smiles. "I'd love to." And it sounds like he really does, too. For a moment I realize that maybe Peeta really liked that part of his work back in Twelve... and how much he might have missed it.

I mean, I've missed hunting. I haven't exactly missed the work part of it. The repetitive ready-aim-kill schedule. I haven't missed that too much. What I miss is the solitude about it. How it was the only place I could feel safe, how I was always in my element while I was hunting. That, aside from hunting, there's little other things that I'm sure about. Maybe baking is Peeta's hunting. I don't even know... which is strange, considering what else we've been talking about these past few months.

"Cinna and Portia have talked to Plutarch, Boggs, and Coin," says Annie eagerly. "Everyone's wearing their nicest things. Plutarch wants it to be a propo, obviously, but..."

"I told him to keep it as subtle as possible," says Finnick. "And anyway, if it helps for the rebellion."

Lira and Johanna swarm to Annie to talk about it, but I wrinkle my nose. _Their nicest things?_

…

I sigh. "I thought I was done wearing dresses when my propos ended."

"Your propos don't end until the rebellion does, honey," says Johanna with a grin. She comes up behind me. Johanna, Lira, and I have the same shade of green and the same material for our dresses ("bridesmaids", only not really), but they're just a bit different in little ways, like how Johanna has sleeves.

"If it's any consolation," says Lira, who's fixing her hair, "you look lovely, Katniss."

I let out another heavy breath, crossing my arms self-consciously over my chest. My dress is sleeveless, with a pink ribbon wrapped around my waist. I feel too naked.

"Peeta's going to love it," says Johanna slyly.

I turn around and face her sharply. "What?"

"Come on. Now that Lira's out of the way..."

"I was never _in _the way," Lira says loudly. "Katniss is just being difficult, that's all."

"Can we not talk about this?" I plead.

Annie, getting her hair done by Portia, laughs. "Come on, girls, be nice."

Johanna pokes me playfully. "Come on, think about it. Peeta's going to be all dressed-up and nice-looking today..."

I stop myself from talking. "Shut up." I blush because I realize that I do think he's nice-looking all the time, better when he's not in fancy tuxedos or when his hair's all stiff and gelled. But that's completely objective. A friend can say that. Right? It's just that, knowing Lira and Johanna, they would blow it out of proportion and twist my words. I'd regret saying anything like that.

Later, when the only one left to be dressed is the bride, Lira lets out a little choked sound.

"What's wrong?" says Annie, startled. She's been looking at her reflection in the mirror, anxiously observing how she looks in her dress. It's not as extravagant as what they might have in the Capitol – in fact, it could pass off as a silver bridesmaid's dress – but I'm still startled by how beautiful it is.

"I got all sentimental, that's all," says Lira. She puts the veil on Annie. "Ooh, you're so beautiful, Annie Cresta."

"Better use that name as often between now and the next hour," says Johanna with a grin, but even her smile is a bit different – tinged with nostalgia.

Annie smiles. "I do wish Rue were here... I hope she's all right."

"She'll be okay," I say suddenly. "We'll be fine. It's okay." And you know, I'm not sure what I mean by that. I mean, there's Rue, and how she feels right now... and Annie and how she's getting married at the worst and best possible time... but I guess it works either way. We'll be fine.

There's a knock at the door. "Anyone naked?" Gale.

"No," Annie calls out.

Gale peers through the door, smiling. "Shame," he says, joking lightly. Lira and I roll our eyes at each other. Gale turns to Annie. "You look great, Annie. Finnick's a lucky man."

"He nervous?" asks Annie, glancing back at her reflection in the mirror, playing with her skirt with a somewhat anxious smile on her face.

"I've been threatened," Gale says, "so I'm obligated to say that no, he's not; Finnick is totally fine." He smiles. "He's probably as nervous as you are, whether you are or not... anyway! We should get a move on, soon-to-be Mrs. Odair. Let's go."

Since the wedding _is _going to serve a little bit for the rebellion, all of Thirteen has been invited to the festivities. The majority of its citizens did at least some work to get ready for the wedding – food, decorations, the like. The ceremony is short, but the celebrations last all night... and I only caught one camera! Even that was only because the cameraman was in the bathroom and left his camera running just in case.

District Twelve immediately grouped together, starting up on the traditional dances we do at every... well, whenever we have reason to. And we don't, usually. Twelve didn't often have many reasons to celebrate, but when we did celebrate, it was a _real _celebration.

I'm still standing with Rue, who's smiling, looking like she's enjoying herself... but she hasn't exactly been participating yet. "Oh," says Rue suddenly, "_there _he is."

I look around. Peeta. I had been sitting in the middle with Mother and Prim instead of with the "bridal party", so I hadn't seen him yet. And I want to hit myself for the thought that comes to me... because he _does _look nice. His hair isn't styled. He's just wearing a tuxedo.

"Where'd you get that?" I ask, surprised. I didn't think he'd actually be wearing one.

Peeta shrugs. "Cinna. Plutarch said I had to be dressed nice because I'd be on-screen."

"You... you look... nice," I say reluctantly.

He smiles at me. "Same to you, Kat." He looks down to Rue and takes her hands, spinning her around. "And you! You look beautiful, little flower."

Rue grins bashfully. "Thank you, Peeta."

"Dance with me?" asks Peeta playfully.

"Yeah!" Rue nods, grabbing my hand as Peeta pulls her onto the dance floor.

"No, no –" I say immediately.

Peeta sticks his tongue out at me. "Stop being a spoil-sport. You're here to have fun. I'm sure you're this amazing dancer, and you're just hiding it."

I snort. "Right." But I go out and dance with them anyway.

I may not be an amazing dancer, but I still have fun. I take my turns dancing with my little sister, with Rue, with the girls, with Cinna, with Gale... but Peeta, no. He's always dancing with someone else when I'm not, and vice-versa.

When I find Lira by the punch, she gives me an eyebrow wiggle. "I haven't seen you dance with Peeta yet. Not since you two danced with Rue..."

"Shut up, please, Liar," I say.

She scowls at me, and I give her a scowl back.

"Ooh, I hate Johanna," she mutters, sipping her punch.

I smile. "Just leave it."

"Not until I see this love story resolved, darling," she says, shaking her head. I wasn't talking about Ever-Ark, but whatever, I guess.

Wait. What?

"It's not a _love story_," I say indignantly.

"Not according to Panem!" Lira sings.

I throw my head back in frustration. "You... you..."

Lira muses, "You know, he must really care about your feelings, and what your current relationship is. Otherwise he would have told you how he feels _ages _ago."

"What?" I say, so exasperated.

"He's told me he likes you, you know," says Lira matter-of-factly.

I roll my eyes. "I don't believe you're telling the truth, and if you were... if you were –"

"If she were what?"

Lira giggles. "Speak of the devil."

I glare at her before turning around to Peeta. "Oh, hey."

"I'm not the devil," he says cheerfully to Lira, "Liar."

"You people are the _worst_!" she cries.

Peeta winks at her. "Taste of your own medicine. _You _stop being annoying, _I _stop calling you that." Then he takes my wrist. "Come on. I'm trying to be a ladies man, and you're the only girl I know who I haven't danced with yet."

He's joking, but I'm still kind of... timid.

As Peeta drags me away, Lira gives me that infuriating eyebrow wiggle again.

Peeta pulls me toward him, initiating a traditional Twelve dance that's usually done between only two people. When I was smaller, before my dad died, my parents used to dance like this all the time. I'd catch them in the living room so many times... often, Father would stop Mother while she was sweeping the floor, cleaning up after Prim and me. Then, even though there was no music playing, he'd pull her close, start dancing. Sometimes he'd sing himself. That was the best. I'd never see Mother any happier. I still never have, and I don't think I ever will.

"The cake was beautiful," I tell him earnestly.

He smiles. "Thanks. I was inspired."

Just then, the doors to the big room used for the celebrations burst open. It's Plutarch. He looks at Peeta and me, motioning for us to come.

"Plutarch," I say suddenly.

Peeta looks around, seeing him. "Looks important..."

"Where's Rue?" he asks gravely.

Peeta and I exchange a look. "I think," says Peeta slowly, "she was dancing with Prim..."

Plutarch presses his lips together, rubbing his temple. He looks close to tears, which is strange. I've never seen him like that... close to breaking down. Even as being central to the revolution, he's still very strong-willed about everything. He's very strong, in general. If he feels any fear or lack of nerve, he doesn't show it. I frown. "Plutarch, what's wrong?" I ask quietly. "What happened?"

"We got bad news from Julius, our spy in the Capitol," Plutarch murmurs darkly.

"Is Russul okay?" I whisper.

Plutarch nods. "Yes, and all plans are still going well for tomorrow."

"Then _what happened_?" I ask. I'm terrified of what the answer might be, but right now, I'm horrified as it is. Peeta puts a hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me down.

"Lola is missing, and Chaff is dead," says Plutarch. "Lola is probably dead."

Lola Bagatelle. District Eleven escort. And Chaff...

It feels like my stomach fell down to my feet. Chaff! I remember Rue's compassionate treatment of the two of them. How she did care for them. Chaff risked his life to go back to the Capitol. They must've known that he had something to do with the rebellion... that he might be central to what we're going to do to bust out the tributes.

"What?" I whisper. "You... you... is he _sure_?"

Plutarch nods. "Julius was helping with the sponsorships. Found Chaff himself."

"But why Lola?" says Peeta. "She didn't do anything wrong. She never even _came _to Thirteen."

"Whatever it takes to break her," says Plutarch sadly. "And the Capitol doesn't know that, Peeta. They probably don't even care."

"You can't tell her!" I hiss. I bite my lip. "Please, Plutarch! Don't tell her!"

Plutarch frowns, shaking his head. "And postpone it? She'll feel even worse when she finds out we've kept it from her."

"She's already feeling horrible as it is. She's so happy right now!" I say.

Peeta sighs. "Kat, you know it's not a good idea to keep it from her."

"Not you, too," I say, upset. "You _know _how terrible she's been feeling lately."

"We have to tell her, Katniss, I'm sorry," says Plutarch. I'm about to interrupt, but already, he's gone to Rue. My legs feel like jelly. I can't chase after him. The Capitol just killed Chaff, probably Lola, too... just so that they could _break _Rue. They've broken me, and I never even really knew Rue's mentor and escort.

The music turns off.

Gale taps the microphone.

"I'd like to propose a toast!"

… Chaff and Lola are dead.

"Annie, Finnick – I haven't known you _very _long, but we've spent a good three months together in front of the camera. I like to think that maybe we've become very good friends, and I'm so happy I get to be here with you two on your special day."

Dead.

"May you two have long, happy years together. And lots of kids."

The crowd laughs.

"To the bride and groom!"

I watch as Rue sprints out the door.

* * *

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	31. In a War Zone

**I don't own the Hunger Games.

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**

(Peeta POV)

"Rue, do you want us to stay with you tonight? Or would you rather be by yourself?" Katniss asks, pressing her head against the door to our compartment.

"Just leave me alone, please," we hear Rue say.

Katniss looks to me. "Should we let her?" she whispers.

I look to the compartment, pushing my lips over to one side in thought. "I... yeah. I guess. And then we should be back first thing in the morning, though."

"We're _leaving _first thing in the morning," she reminds me.

"We'll get up earlier," I say, trying to smile.

Katniss returns the efforts of a smile. "Yeah. So, you're staying with your family?"

I shrug. "I might as well pass by. You think your mom and Prim would mind if I stayed at yours if Ma gets on my nerves?"

"As if Prim or my mother would mind." Katniss rolls her eyes.

"Do you mind coming with me to my family's compartment?" I ask, a bit reluctantly.

Katniss hesitates. "Yeah, sure."

Naturally, when we get to my compartment, everyone's there getting ready for bed. Tom bounds toward us, hugging Katniss like he hasn't seen her in ages – when, actually, they just saw each other at the wedding. "Wasn't _that _fun?" he says enthusiastically.

"Tompouce," says Eddy tiredly, "do you have an off button?"

"Anyway," says Tom, waving off our older brother, "what brings you to the family compartment, Peeta? Finally going to stay with us?"

I notice Ma look up.

I press my lips together. "Yeah. Rue... well, we got some bad news today, so Katniss and I decided she ought to have some time to herself."

"What about if she has nightmares?" asks Tom, raising a brow.

"She'll be fine. My family's compartment is just five down the hallway," says Katniss.

Ma stands up. "Oh, so you'll be staying with your family?"

"Yes, Mrs. Mellark," Katniss replies stiffly. "There will no need to worry about me corrupting your precious little boy."

I stifle a smile.

Ma hesitates. "You would be welcome to stay with us, you know."

There's a beat of silence. Tom does a double take, realizing what Ma just says. My dad meets my eyes, almost smiling.

Katniss takes it in stride. "Thank you, Mrs. Mellark, but there's room in my family's compartment. And I'd like to stay near Rue."

"All right... Katniss."

Ma looks at me, as if seeking approval. I look back to Katniss. "I'll talk to you in the morning."

"Yeah," she says. "Get a good night's rest. We're going to need it."

I give her a hug before she leaves, pressing my forehead against hers. "Will you be okay tonight?"

She nods.

"Really?"

"Yes," Katniss answers. "If not, I'll... I'll have Prim and Mother. It's just one night without your bedtime stories, Peeta; I'll be fine."

"Okay." I kiss her forehead. "Good night, Kat."

She blushes, obviously embarrassed that I did that in front of her family. I'm going to pay for it once she leaves, I know...

Sure enough, as soon as the door closes, Tom comes up to me and giggles. "'Good night, Kat', he says. I'm surprised there was no _real _kiss there... 'will you be okay tonight?'"

"Shut your face," I say, shoving him.

He giggles again, bumping his hip against mine. "I see wedding bells in your future, Peeta Mellark... do you plan on making the little sister my real little sister anytime soon?"

"Tompouce!" I groan irritably, punching his shoulder. "Shut. Up." I make to give him a rather rude gesture, then Ma stops me.

"Peeta."

"Sorry, Ma." I grab some sleepwear from the drawers and start to leave. "I'm going to go take a shower. I'll be back." I leave the room, but as soon as the door closes behind me, Ma opens it, following me.

"Peeta," she says again. "Am I forgiven?"

I give her a good look, wondering how it must feel to be her. To be a mother whose youngest son doesn't feel too kindly toward her. Enough for me to wish I weren't sleeping in the same compartment tonight. To be honest, I just don't feel like intruding on the Everdeens. She looks at me hopefully, looking so small and un-Ma-like: weak and sad and at my mercy.

"When Katniss forgives you, Ma," I say, pushing the door into the bathroom.

…

It turns out that I am not going to be with the sharpshooters (consisting of _everyone _except Annie, and me) today. I am connected with Katniss, Lira, Gale, Johanna, Finnick, and the rest of the squad through their earpieces, but I'm not even going to be actually helping grab the actual tributes from the arena.

"Finnick was so angry," says Annie, watching the windows with me. The two of us sit behind the pilot, who hasn't been talking to us. Boggs sits near the back, going over plans that he's probably gone over at least thirty times already.

I let out a small laugh. "Yeah. I'm sure he was, actually."

"What about you?" she asks, looking up at me. "Are you angry?"

I hesitate, not at all bothering to pretend that I don't know what she's talking about. I stare at my feet, thinking about it. _Am _I angry that I was separated from Katniss – and everyone? I let out a breath, shaking my head. I look up at Annie. "Scared."

Annie smiles sadly. "Me too."

"Soldier Mellark. Soldier Odair," says Boggs suddenly, standing up. He's holding his hand up to his earpiece, looking at us. "We're going to have a stopover before we enter Capitol territory. Double-check everything with the others."

"But we won't be joining them," I say.

"No, but plans are changed," says Boggs, pulling out a gun from the compartments in the plane. He gives one to me, one to Annie. "You two are in charge of making sure the Capitol planes don't interfere with our plans."

"You mean, while they're breaking out the tributes?" asks Annie.

Boggs nods. "That's right."

"Just the two of us?" I say, startled. There's no way the two of us – with some guns that Annie and I can hardly shoot, anyway – will be able to hold back _Capitol planes_.

"Ha!" Boggs laughs. "No, Soldier Mellark. Some other soldiers will be joining us, and you'll just be... the back-up plan, I guess. We'll be doing some aerial warfare as well."

I rub a part of the machine gun with my thumb, smiling wryly. "That's cheerful."

"Chin up, Soldier Mellark."

When we got to the stopover, all the soldiers from the three hovercrafts get out to converse. I see Katniss dressed in her gear for the first time, and what I said earlier still remains true: I'm not angry. Just scared. She spots me after a few seconds, meeting my eyes. She gives me a shaky smile, and I have to remind myself that this isn't the unprotected Katniss who wakes up from nightmares three or four times a night. I can't just hug her and make everything better. Because it won't make everything better.

"Soldiers!" says Boggs, standing with his arms behind his back, looking very serious. "We're all aware of the plan. It should be very simple –"

"– unless it isn't," Lira says below her breath. I smile, because of how many times that's been said nowadays. It _is _true.

"We all know the tributes we're in charge of collecting. Once you are released from the hovercrafts, the Capitol will definitely have retaliation. You _must _be ready. Of course, we do have our back up plan, but you must _not _rely on them, because chances are, they'll be dead before you are."

Oh, thanks, Boggs.

"Ladies and gentlemen, when you were selected for this mission – when you _accepted _this mission – you were all very aware of the risks. Remain aware of them. To avoid them doesn't need saying," says Boggs. He hesitates. "We have pods in the arena as it is. To make things worse, the Capitol will probably be dropping in Peacekeepers as soon as we're in there."

Boggs keeps on talking about the plans, the precautions, but suddenly, I notice a uniform smaller than all the others.

I almost drop my gun. I nudge Katniss sharply, pointing.

Katniss' jaw drops.

_Rue! _Katniss mouths. The horror is clear in her face.

What is _Rue _doing here? I can imagine her begging to come, her _insisting _that she needs to be part of this. It was a long enough flight; surely someone could have told Katniss or me that she was coming! _When you were selected for the mission – when you _accepted _this mission – you were aware of the risks_. I wonder if Rue was. I wonder if Rue understands that in fighting for her brother's life, she might very well lose her own.

"All right, soldiers. Good luck to us all," says Boggs gravely.

Katniss and I go against the crowd, rushing to Rue.

"Rue Graveolens!" I gasp, grabbing her shoulder with my free hand. "What are you _doing _here?"

Rue looks at me, raising a brow. "I'm here for the party, Peeta. I didn't realize you were invited." She rolls here eyes. "Why do you _think _I'm here?"

"That – I didn't mean – Rue!" I hiss.

"Peeta!" she says back.

I narrow my eyes. She giggles.

"Do you realize what you're doing?" Katniss whispers, looking terrified. "You could – you could..."

"So could you, Katniss," says Rue gently.

Katniss grits her teeth. "But you're just a ki –"

"Don't you dare say that," Rue interrupts. "Don't you dare tell me that I'm 'just a kid', because we all know that I'm not. I will never, ever be just a kid anymore, and my brother's out there about to suffer the same fate. And you expect me to stay trapped in Thirteen, twiddling my thumbs, waiting to find out that one of you has died? No thanks."

I'm silenced.

Katniss sighs and hugs Rue. "Stay safe, okay? Don't die."

"Same to you." Rue salutes both of us, smiling sadly, before disappearing into her hovercraft.

Then, Katniss turns to me. "And you..."

"You stay safe, too," I say, voice cracking at the end. My mouth is so dry.

Katniss stares at me, eyes wide. Then, her gun falls to the ground, and her arms fling around me, and then – sorry, what was I talking about?

_Katniss Everdeen is kissing me_

Wait, _what_?

I never even – when did she – but I didn't – what happened to make this –

But, you know what, who cares?

_Katniss Everdeen is kissing me_.

"Is this really the moment?" Lira shrieks. "Stop sucking your faces and save it for when we survive!"

"Oh, I can't believe I just did that," gasps Katniss, untangling herself from my arms. She grabs her gun and bolts, following Gale, Lira, Johanna, and Finnick.

Annie, standing a few feet away, smiles. "Time to go, Soldier Mellark." She moves closer, tapping her knuckles on my head gently. "Anyone there, still?"

"I... I think so," I whisper.

Laughing, Annie pushes me toward the hovercraft. "Come on. We've got tributes to bust."

…

I didn't expect it to be so chaotic.

I have to watch as the bullets fly, as my friends rush into the heart of the danger. The Peacekeepers, sure enough, drop from the sky to collect whoever they can. Ransom. Deaths.

The rebels are everywhere, all over the arena, collecting confused tributes who weren't with Michel, Loranne, and Russul: they weren't aware of the plan. It takes a few moments for them to realize who the rebels are, why they're here... the tributes who aren't rebels attack violently, getting ready to attack, thinking that the rebels are just part of the Games... the Peacekeepers shoot whoever they see...

"Russul! Russul!" I hear Rue screaming in my earpiece and I wonder what's happening and I wonder why I'm hearing this and...

It's like hell down there, I think I hear Annie whisper beside me.

"We have five of them!" screams Boggs in my earpiece. Boggs is in another hovercraft, now, not with us; it makes me feel oddly unsafe. "Five!" He shouts names at the rebels, instructing the soldiers to go certain places to help. The hovercraft Annie and I are in rumbles loudly, knocking us off our feet.

"Strap yourselves in!" the pilot says, speaking the first words we've heard him say since we boarded the hovercraft.

Annie and I exchange horrified looks, getting into our seats and putting on our seat belts, in front of all the other soldiers.

"Peeta, are you going down?" Boggs yells.

He didn't even address me as 'Soldier Mellark'. "I don't know, Boggs," I reply shakily. "I don't know."

"Ask the pilot!"

"Are we going down, pilot?" I ask.

"No, but we were scraped by one of the missiles," says the pilot. "I think we might have hit something... but it'll probably be easy to mend as soon as we land..."

"No, but we were scraped by one of the missiles. But we do have to land to mend something," I repeat to Boggs. They're firing _missiles_, now? I feel like I have no idea what the plan was in the first place.

"The Capitol has a rebel!" Boggs yells, probably forgetting he's still talking to me. It takes me a while to realize that he's not saying there's a Capitol _rebel_; he's saying that the Capitol has captured a rebel. "The Capitol has a rebel!"

"Who, Boggs?" I say desperately. "Who they have?"

Silence. He's disconnected with me.

"They have..." I begin to tell Annie, but she nods grimly, biting her lip. She heard it, too.

"We have some injuries," the soldier behind me announces in a hushed voice. "Several of them – a lot of rebels. We've lost two or three tributes, but none of the rebel tributes... they've no idea what's going on now..."

I rub my temple.

"Prepare yourselves, soldiers, we'll be landing in rebel-occupied Capitol territory," says the pilot. I see his reflection in the mirror. He looks... unsure. Scared. I am, too. "We're in a war zone."

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**Review, please. :)**


	32. Rueful

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Okay, so I uploaded this first time, and I'm embarrassed that I was unclear. :) So, I've added some details.

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(Katniss POV)

I dream. I do nothing but dream. I don't know why, but my dreams include my father... about happy times. Times we would've had.

"Do you like him?" Father asks.

I smile. "Not you, too."

"He seems like a nice boy," Father says, as the two of us sit in the Meadow, looking into the woods. "I like him, Katniss."

And then sometimes we're hunting, and Peeta would show up, and Father would act like it's no big deal. "Are you coming over for dinner tonight, Peeta?"

Sometimes, it would be Father, Prim, and me. We'd be singing songs together...

But the last one was of Rue. The two of us, huddled together on the bottom bunk. Like whenever Peeta's in the bathroom. The two of us just have a short time alone together.

"You know what's funny?" says Rue.

"What?"

Rue answers thoughtfully, "My name. I mean, it is the flower, but it means other things, too. In this old language there used to be, before Panem, it meant 'road'. And then it also meant... 'to regret'."

"The flower suits you best, little flower," I say, copying Peeta's nickname. I smile and poke her playfully.

She doesn't move.

"'Rue'," she says again. "To wish something had never been done. A bitter regret. Sorrow. Repentance."

"Stop saying that," I whisper. "Stop it."

"Katniss, no one's saying anything."

Rue blinks at me before fading. That wasn't Rue's voice.

That's when I realize it's a dream.

"Katniss, are you awake, now?"

I open my eyes.

"Hello there, sweetie," says one of the nurses. She smiles down at me. Then she points with her chin, someplace to my right. "Your sister's been staying here all days, same with that boy... they'll be glad to know you're awake. Prim, dearie, wake up."

I turn my head – with a lot of effort – and see Prim's eyes fluttering open. "Katniss!"

The nurse chuckles. "That's right. I'll go get the doctor, all right?"

"Ooh, you've been knocked out for three days, you know," says Prim, smiling. It's a sad smile. I wonder why. What happened? Why was I knocked out? "Don't try to remember everything all at once, Katniss. Just take a breather."

"We went to break out the tributes," I say.

Guns.

"... from the arena."

Hovercrafts.

I close my eyes. "A bunch of us got hit. The vests... protected us. Cinna made them."

"Yes," Prim whispers.

"Someone was taken," I whisper.

Peeta. Peeta, after I left him. Frozen with shock.

"The Capitol took a rebel, didn't they?"

Prim nods slowly.

"Russul was safe, though, I got him to the hovercraft."

A hovercraft crashing to the ground. I couldn't tell if that was a Capitol seal or an illusion.

"I remember." The way I say it. Even I think it sounds like I'm just trying to convince myself of them.

Gale, yelling at me to run.

"Gale broke his arm. He couldn't shoot."

"Stop, Katniss," Prim murmurs, looking worried. "You were concussed. A lot of them were injured in some way, but they were all right when they got to the rendezvous in the rebel territory, in the Capitol."

"I know who was safe... Boggs, and Johanna... I saw them get into the hovercraft. I saw Gale with the paramedics. And Peeta... Peeta was with Annie, safe."

Prim hesitates.

"Tell me Peeta's all right," I say through gritted teeth. "Tell me."

My little sister nods, squeezing my hand briefly before letting go. "He's all right, Katniss. I promise. His hovercraft crashed, though, and they had to make an emergency exit..."

"But he's alive."

"Very, very alive." Prim laughs a little. "He's been by your side the whole time, talking to you as if you would listen."

That would make sense, judging from the amount of his appearances in my dreams.

I frown. "I'm forgetting someone."

Prim nods slowly.

"Finnick!" I say suddenly. "Finnick! I didn't see him. He was in charge of another rebel tribute to release. I didn't – he's all right, isn't he?"

"Similarly injured to you, actually," Prim says, pointing to the wall opposite her.

"He's still out?" I whisper.

Prim nods, and Peeta comes through the door, out of breath.

"Kat!" he says, looking like his birthday came early.

I smile. "Peeta..."

He comes up to me, taking my hand and brushing my hair away from my face, all in very quick movements. "You're breathing."

"Yes, Peeta."

"Oh, you're all right." He brings my hand to his cheek, sighing in what seems like extreme relief.

Prim smiles at me. "This is what you were like when _he _woke up from his unconscious spell."

I make a face. "Was I? That's embarrassing." Then, I raise my brow. "But Prim, I mentioned... everyone. Everyone's alive. Everyone who matters to me... who... why did Boggs sound like that, in my earpiece?"

"You haven't told her," Peeta murmurs.

"Of course, not. She wouldn't let me, and I can't tell her myself," Prim says, biting her lip.

"Tell me."

Peeta shakes his head. "You don't want to know, Kat."

"Yes, actually; I do." I look frantically at both of them. "Is it someone important? Who did I forget?"

Taking a deep breath, Peeta grips my hand tightly. "There was this poet, who lived a long time ago. He had a poem. Eddy read it to me a long time ago."

"What was the poem?" I whisper.

"'With rue, my heart is laden'," Peeta murmurs softly.

"No."

"Katniss –" he begins helplessly.

I shake my head, holding his hand tightly, like a lifeline. "_No_! It can't be true! There must be some _mistake_!"

"When the Peacekeepers tried to get Russul, she knocked him out of the way. They were happy to take her instead," Prim says weakly.

I scream, "NO! Rue! RUE!" I scream her name like somehow she will hear, and somehow she'll answer.

When they hear, the nurses come in.

"Don't!" I shriek at them, knowing they're going to try and sedate me. "Don't do that! No!"

When they see my eyes close, Peeta thinks it's safe.

"And we haven't even told her about Li..."

That night, when I dream, Rue whispers the poem to me.

_With rue my heart is laden  
For golden friends I had,  
For many a rose-lipt maiden  
And many a lightfoot lad._

_By brooks too broad for leaping  
The lightfoot boys are laid;  
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping  
In fields where roses fade. _

But I laughed at her in the dream. "But you're not dead, silly. You're right here!"

She smiled at me. "Yes, of course I'm right here."

"Exactly. You're not 'sleeping'. It's fine."

Rue hugged me, pressing her cheek against mine. "No, I'm not sleeping. But the sad part is, you _are_."

…

(Peeta POV)

When they let Katniss out of the hospital they don't tell me about it. I find her in her family's compartment, sitting on the bunk, looking out the small window that Buttercup goes in and out of. She looks so sick. So out of it.

"Kat?"

"Rue and Lira," she says to me.

I bite my lip.

"What happened with Lira?"

"Do you really want me to tell you?"

Katniss turns to me and nods. "Yes."

I sigh, hesitating. It's bad enough to think about it.

The most common question that gets repeated in my head is, _Is she all right? _Because I know that Rue is not all right. If she's alive, she'd be in pain. Part of me wonders if I would rather - if she would rather that she'd be dead.

The next question that gets asked by myself most often is, _Will I ever be able to give her a hug, ever again? _And to that, there is absolutely no answer.

I'm not sure if I want to tell Katniss – if I should be the one to tell her. I think of Gale and how he definitely won't be able to tell her, and I sigh. There is nobody else who's going to tell her, and nobody else will _know _how to tell her. "Fine."

She looks away.

"She was in charge of retrieving Loranne with you. Do you remember?" Katniss doesn't reply, so I go on. "And then at the last minute, well, Gale was was supposed to help retrieve Neets, the other tribute from District Four. Gale could see the action from his seat in the hovercraft, by the time you guys got there. He realized then what danger Lira would be in, and he knew it wouldn't be like the propos. He begged Lira to switch. She said no. Gale asked Boggs, because he knew that Lira would be forced to switch then. Boggs hesitated. He knew what she could handle. Thought he knew."

"She switched with Gale," Katniss whispers.

I nod. "Lira was forced to. But in the midst of all the chaos... Lira lost her earpiece, Neets was already losing blood when Lira's team got to her..."

"Stop," says Katniss. "I get it. I don't want to hear any more."

"Kat..."

I don't blame her for not wanting to hear anymore. I don't even like knowing that Lira is most likely...

_My confidant, the one who understood too much. She is captured by the Capitol. She is probably dead. It is probably better if she is dead._

Katniss buries her forehead in her hands, grasping handfuls of her hair. "Peeta, _please_, leave me alone. I can't deal with this right now!"

I stand on the bottom bunk to get closer to her. "Katniss, don't push me away, I'm here for you."

Katniss swallows, and then goes down from the bunk. Her lower lip trembles. I pull her into my arms.

"Shh," I whisper, "we'll find a way."

We stay like that for what feels like forever.

Suddenly, Katniss gasps and pushes me away. "No. I shouldn't – I shouldn't be doing this."

I blink, confused. "What?"

"I can't be... you and I. We can't – we shouldn't do this, Peeta."

Oh.

"But you kissed me," I whisper, desperate. "I didn't kiss you, Katniss. You kissed me."

"That was a mistake," she says, looking away.

I stare at her in disbelief, my heart beating faster than it should. "No!" I gasp. "Katniss, please –" Suddenly, everything I was afraid of happening is happening. I should have known this was going to happen... I seize her wrist, holding on tightly so she can't run away from me. She can't run. Not again. This isn't going to happen to me.

"Please, Peeta!" she says. "I've already lost Rue –"

"You say that like you're the only one who did," I say desperately. "Katniss, why do you want to lose me as well? Haven't you... haven't you been..."

"I _won't _lose you, though. You'd still be here," Katniss whispers.

I shake my head. "But Kat – Katniss, you know it wouldn't be the same. You know things with Gale haven't been the same since he kissed you. But it's only because you turned away. I can't deal with that. I have to fight for you. I'm too scared for that to happen. _Please_, give me a chance."

"I'm happy with you as a _friend_, Peeta," she says coldly.

"No, you aren't. That's a lie." I shake my head, holding her hand tightly. "You know it would _kill _you to not be able to have me hold you at night, to have me just ignore you when you wake up, to not have _me_. Because you know you wouldn't have me if you just turned away from me right now."

Katniss stares at me in awe and pain and I'm holding my breath.

"Katniss," I say, pleading with my voice, "you kissed me. I didn't kiss you. You let your emotions get ahead of you and your emotions aren't lying."

Suddenly, I realize something.

"All that time ago, in the Capitol," I whisper.

The blood rushes from Katniss' face.

"You lied to me. You did kiss me when I was knocked out."

Katniss shuts her eyes. "That was a _mistake_!"

"Stop that!" I yell. "You're hurting yourself, not just me here, Katniss! Why are you so afraid of... of this? Love doesn't make you _weak_! Feeling hurt or pain isn't a deficiency! It's part of being human! You can't block yourself off because you're scared that loving people will just give your enemies bait or a weakness to poke at! Loving people makes you stronger, Kat, you need to _understand this_."

Katniss turns away. "You always had a way with words."

"Don't change the subject," I whisper, bringing my hand to her cheek, turning her head toward me. It's a risk, sure, but I feel like it's the only thing I've got left. I press my lips to hers, not pulling away until we both need to breathe.

She looks at me for a long time, eyes wide – not with surprise. I watch her nervously, getting ready for her to run away. Because I wouldn't be surprised if she did.

Then, she closes her eyes tightly, biting her lip. "Rue," she chokes. "Lira."

Katniss buries her face in my shoulder and begins to sob. I hold her in my arms as she falls apart.

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**_review pleaase._**


	33. The Others

If you missed it, reread last chapter! Events are a bit clearer, now. This is a little in-between chapter, to further clear things up and maybe pull at some heartstrings. I was glad to see some devastation for the last chapter! It means I have done well.

Also, this is an alternate universe. In real-verse, Lira was raised by living parents haha.

**I don't own the Hunger Games.

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(Rue POV)

I become accustomed to her screams.

"STOP IT! STOP IT!" I yell through the glass. They hear me pounding, but they don't hear my screams. The painful part is that_ I_ can hear_ her_ screams.

I see her through the glass tank, where they soak her with water, torturing her with electroshocks. Her spine curves to an extreme, her eyes wide with shock, her skin pale. Then the seizures begin and I burst into tears.

Stop it stop it stop it.

Later, when Lira seems tired and wet and sick and half dead, she grips my hand with what feels like all the effort she has.

There is barely any pressure on my fingers.

"Tell – tell..." she gasps.

"Tell what?" I ask desperately.

Her fingers are so cold.

Her eyes flutter closed. Before the guards can take her away, I feel the pulse.

She's alive.

"Please stay that way," I whisper, as she's dragged into her own cell.

…

(Boggs POV)

My little sister, Vanya Hunt, died when her little girl was only six years old. Vanya and her husband, Tim, were on an undercover mission to District Two. There, they were discovered.

I guess I should have seen it before. Tim had an idea about what was going to happen. He and my sister hadn't volunteered for this mission like rebels usually _should_; instead, he was ordered. When he left little Lira in my care, he said, "If something happens, you'll take care of you, won't you?"

"There's no question about it, but Tim, you aren't planning to die, are you?" I asked with a small, nervous smile.

Tim looked to Lira, who played with action figures. I remember listening to her voice go up and down so that it suited the characters – "no, please, have mercy!" or "you need to go" or "not to the jail! Please! Have mercy!"... already, at six years old, she was ready to be on the battlefield. I'd talked to her about it before – "like Mommy and Daddy!" she'd say.

"No, of course not," Tim had told me.

And I knew that he'd never leave his little girl behind on purpose.

"But one doesn't plan these things," Tim said quietly. "I'm just..."

"I'd take care of her," I said. "It doesn't need saying."

"Thanks."

When the news of Tim and Vanya's death arrived, it took ages for Lira to understand that they wouldn't be coming home. It took me a while to decide whether the fact that there was no funeral was a good thing or not. But later I decided it didn't matter. Little Lira was strong.

_Was_. I need to stop thinking about her like my little Lira, my little sister's little girl, is a _was_. She's not. She's alive.

She has to be alive.

…

(Gale POV)

"Gale?"

It takes too long for me to process whose voice it is. I have to remember whose voice that is because that is my best friend's voice. Well, she was, until I made a mistake. But suddenly, that thing that caused me so much regret doesn't matter to me at all right now. Lira Lira Lira Lira.

"Gale, it's Katniss."

I know it's Katniss. I swallow tightly from my curled up position on the ground of my compartment. I press my forehead against my knee. Lira Lira Lira Lira. Say it quickly. It sounds like "liar".

"Peeta told me what happened."

Did he now? I squeeze my eyes shut. Cry, Gale, cry. For some reason, I can't. I started crying forty-two hours after I found out that Lira Lira Lira Lira was... was...

But in those forty-two hours I was just empty. I remember seeing Rue, little Rue, when she found out that Russul was in the Games. Empty. Broken. Blank. _Nothing_. That's what I thought. I thought she felt nothing, but it's not. It's a cold numbness that rises from the tips of your toes to the ends of your fingers, occupying every inch of your being, when you realize that... that... that...

Lira Lira Lira Lira.

"Gale..."

I can feel her warmth beside me but it's useless and I wish I could tell her that it won't work because she's not... she's not...

Lira Lira Lira Lira.

"... we'll get her back. We'll try so hard to get her back."

That's when I look up.

"It was my fault," I say clearly.

I haven't said anything different in the past five days... five days ago, we went to the Capitol. Three days after, Katniss woke up from an accident. She was shot where the vest was weakest. She was a miracle. A day after, Peeta found her, alone in the Everdeen compartment. They tell me they're official now. It's funny how little I care. It's funny how even that same statement – "It was my fault" – works in that situation, too.

I'm waiting for Katniss to deny it. For her to put her arms around me and say that of course it isn't my fault, I couldn't have expected this. Everybody else said the same things.

"I know it is," she says plainly.

That's my Catnip.

"Do you promise?" I ask.

She stares at me, looking into my eyes for what feels like the first time since I kissed her. I think she doesn't know what I'm talking about. She's probably wondering if she promises to _what_, exactly?

But again, she surprises me. "I promise that we'll do everything we can to bring Lira home." She gives me a kiss on the cheek and I flinch because she's not Lira Lira Lira Lira.

"I love you," I remind her, because it needs saying.

"I know you do." She doesn't seem upset. She smiles. It's a sad smile. At first I think it's because she's sad because I still love her – I feel like reminding her that I don't need to love her like _that _anymore, but then I realize that it's not why her smile is sad. She's sad because "I miss her," Katniss says, "and if I feel like this, I can't imagine what you're feeling."

…

(Lira POV)

I don't remember my parents too much. But I remember that they were the reason that I wanted to be a soldier. Everything they did seemed so heroic. Every time they came home from all those undercover missions with battle scars and circles around their eyes, I never thought that they looked any less attractive. To me, they'd been gods. Brave people who walked straight into the fire, coming out of the smoke burned but breathing.

Dad didn't want me to be a soldier. Neither did Mom. Worried for my safety, I guess. But they fed the flames of my ambition with bedtime stories overflowing with adventure, danger, and glory.

I'd seen the signs of the pain that they'd gone through. Dad had a scar going all the way down his back. Mom showed me casts through the ages, all signed by the same people but in different ways. I still have pictures of them in their uniforms, looking soldiery and important. They told me stories of the pain of watching friends get hurt, watching friends die. They told me the stories of what it felt like to have a bullet brush past them.

The pain they'd gone through is the same pain that's happening now, in my time, only this pain is a thousand times worse because it's merciless.

What could I possibly say to them?

"Look at me, Mom! Look, Dad! I'm a soldier! Just like you!"

Back then, the rebellion was underground, and so was the war. They only had undercover missions, trying to provide for the people in the Districts. Even that was dangerous. Peacekeepers aren't friendly. But they ended up dead anyway.

And if _they_ ended up dead, what chance do I have?

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**_Review, please!_**


	34. Heart to Heart

I can't imagine Katniss Everdeen being in a relationship, to be honest, because I've never seen her in a relationship... and when I write her as being in a relationship, she's been married fifteen years. I mean. Really. This Katniss is just unnaturally happy. Meh. I apologize. It's hard to keep Katniss in character when she's... dating? In a relationship? I don't even know, guys.

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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(Katniss POV)

Now more than ever, I've been ignoring the schedule that gets imprinted on my arm every morning... except maybe the occasional chore. I like to avoid everyone, though, because everyone I see reminds me of the people that are gone. Except maybe Peeta or Prim or my mother. They're the easiest to deal with. Peeta doesn't mind seeing me cry. Prim keeps me smiling. Mother is mother.

A few hours before lunchtime I go to find Peeta; I didn't seem him at breakfast. It's not unusual for him to disregard his schedule, either. Coin... tolerates it. She says that we're mentally damaged or something like that. Even if I'm not, I don't mind being called that. At least it gives me an excuse to wander.

I open the door to the Mellark compartment, only to find Mrs. Mellark there, sewing something.

"Oh," I say, turning around instantly.

"No, Katniss. Wait."

Halfway out the door, I pause. I turn around. I'm not usually alone with Peeta's "ma". Whenever one of the Mellark boys is with me, they defend me – or, at least, Mrs. Mellark puts up what I think is an act. So that Peeta can forgive her. I haven't bothered asking about it. It's not my business.

"I... why don't you sit down?" she asks.

Reluctantly, I turn back around and sit on the bed opposite Mrs. Mellark – the one Peeta sleeps on whenever he sleeps in this compartment.

"I just wanted to apologize."

I don't bother hiding my surprise. It's nobody here except her and me. It _couldn't _be genuine... could it?

"I know what you're thinking," she says, looking down at her sewing, "and this might be to get Peeta's forgiveness, but even if it were, I just want you as an ally, Katniss. There's no telling what will happen in this war, and I don't want to leave this life with you and me as adversaries."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because my son loves you. You are important to him. I love my son. So you are important to me."

The way she says it – so simply. Like _loving _is... simple... but powerful, the way she says it, but still... to me, it isn't simple. Yet, maybe it is, to Mrs. Mellark. I didn't think she was capable, but there you are. It's obvious she loves Peeta... otherwise she wouldn't care what she thought. I imagine the war is bringing out "that side" in her. Like it is in me.

I smile at her, deciding that she and I aren't too different after all. The smile does feel wrong. Feeling _happy _seems wrong, lately. Not while I have no idea what the Capitol is doing to Rue and Lira. "Nobody's perfect." I hold my hand out.

She shakes it. "Thank you." Mrs. Mellark tilts her head at me. "You can call me 'ma', if you like. It's easier."

Easier for her, probably. "Maybe," I say, "if I can get used to it."

"All right." She smiles. She looks almost beautiful when she does. So much younger. The way the smile lights up her face, highlighting the wrinkles but making them look like laugh lines instead of worry lines, reminds me of my own mother and how the same applies to her. Maybe I judged too quickly. There's something about Mrs – Ma. There's something about Ma that isn't what I expected.

After looking at me for a bit longer, Ma says, "You were looking for Peeta?"

"Oh." I nod. "Yeah, I was."

"He's with Tom in the kitchen, I think."

"Thanks." I go over to the door, but before I leave, I turn around and smile at her. I feel a pang again. "Thanks, by the way. For giving me a chance."

"Thank you as well."

_Then _I left.

I found Peeta in the kitchen, sure enough. I can see him from the doorway, leaning against the wall. He's surveying Tom, who's surrounded by two of the younger cooks, giggling and blushing and Tom is just _milking _it. Even I can see that. I go up beside Peeta, poking him in the side. "Hey."

He smiles upon seeing me. He puts his arm around me – something he's been doing a lot. I get the feeling he's scared I'm going to change my mind about... this whole thing... and is just doing the most... boyfriend-ish things he can do in the mean time. Boyfriend. I'm not even sure if I like the term, even if it is accurate. "Where have you been?" asks Peeta, leaning his forehead against mine.

"Where have _you _been? I checked everywhere," I say.

Peeta grins. "You were looking for me?"

"Yes, I was, Peeta." I smile. "We established this."

He underestimates whatever it is I'm feeling for him.

"You checked _everywhere_?" he repeats suddenly. "You mean my compartment?"

I nod, waiting for him to realize this.

"You were with Ma?"

I smile. "She and I had a heart-to-heart."

Peeta looks apprehensive.

"It was a good heart-to-heart," I say reassuringly, kissing his cheek. "Don't be so scared."

"Good?" he echoes.

I nod again. I'm just waiting for him to ask a bunch of questions.

But he doesn't.

"Does this feel wrong to you?" asks Peeta, stroking my cheek with a thoughtful expression on his face.

I watch him curiously. "I thought... I thought you wanted..."

"I do!" he says hastily, hugging me closer. "But I don't know. I have you, and I think about how... how Gale couldn't have you, and I think about Gale, and I think about Lira... and Rue... and..."

"Oh." I pause, nodding. "Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, it does feel wrong. So wrong. It feels wrong to be _happy_," I whisper.

"I agree." Peeta's eyes don't leave me this whole time. He sighs. "But I figure they don't want us to be unhappy. They want us to be fighting, but they don't want us to be sad. And having you isn't making me stop wanting to find Rue and Lira, or having back. It's making me want it more than ever, you know? I want them to be here, be happy with us."

He always says it like that – "having you", or something similar. I don't feel comfortable with all the other terms, and he's noticed. "Dating". "Boyfriend", "girlfriend". It doesn't seem true to me. This is just Peeta, same old Peeta I know and love – no, wait, let's not go there, yet. This is the same old Peeta who comforts me when I'm sad. There's just kissing now. I don't know, okay? I haven't figured out the dynamics, exactly.

"Do you know what Coin's doing about it?" I ask, looking to Tom, who's juggling tomatoes. The girls find this hilarious.

"Not a clue."

I sigh. "That's great."

"Have you talked to Gale lately?"

I wrinkle my nose. "If you can call it 'talking'." Like Peeta and me, Gale probably doesn't even acknowledge that the schedule exists. I hardly ever see him, and when I do, conversation is sparse.

"Miss 'niss!" says Tom suddenly, catching me in the reflection of a pot. "I didn't even know you were here!"

I stifle a smile because the girls are looking at me resentfully. "You seemed preoccupied, brother."

He grins cheekily. "Aren't you, too, though?" Tom wiggles his eyebrows at me and Peeta.

I blush hotly. Peeta rolls his eyes and says, "You think you're so cool."

"I am, though." Tom winks. I think the girls are swooning.

"You don't have a girlfriend."

"Neither do y – oh," says Tom. He gives me a bitter glare. "Thanks. You've just invalidated my argument. It used to be a _great _argument."

I smile - something inside me still trying to suppress it, though. "You're very welcome, Tommy."

"Whoa!" He holds up a tomato, threatening to throw it at me, but I know he wouldn't because Thirteen is strict and even Tom wouldn't dare waste food. "Don't you dare with the Tommy, Kit-Kat."

"Okay!" I hold my hands up. "I won't call you Tommy."

Tom grins. "That's right." He turns back to the girls.

"So, am I staying in Everdeen or Mellark compartment tonight?" Peeta asks.

Because apparently, with the "official" change in relationship, it is inappropriate for Peeta and me to be alone in a compartment overnight. Mother's rules. The very thought of it gets the blood to my face again.

"Er, up to you," I say. "I think Ma would be very happy if you stayed in your compartment... but I could stay there tonight, if you like."

Peeta stares.

"What?" I ask, bringing my hand to my face self-consciously, thinking that maybe I got something on my face.

"You called her 'Ma'!" Peeta says, in a hushed voice.

I laugh. "I did. I didn't realize that. I guess it's not that hard to get used to it, after all."

Peeta surveys me for a long time, and then brings his lips to mine. Surprised, I take a moment before kissing him back. He smiles in the kiss a little – because once upon a time, I would have stood frozen as he kissed me, if not pushed him away. Now I'm responding. And in a positive way, too. The weird thing is, though, I think I'm as surprised as he is.

"What was that for?" I ask, when he pulls away.

"I just wanted to kiss you," he says innocently.

I roll my eyes, shoving him a little. "You're a flirt."

"No, not with you, Katniss Everdeen." He kisses me, again, but briefly this time. "Nobody can flirt with you because flirting is normal, and you aren't normal."

"Oh, thanks."

Peeta smiles. "But you wouldn't be my Katniss if you _were_."

…

"What's it like to have a boyfriend, Katniss?"

I look at Prim as I brush my hair. She's watching me, eyes wide.

"I..." Hesitating, I think about it. "Well, I don't know, really. It doesn't feel like... having a boyfriend."

"When you kiss him, do you get butterflies in your stomach?"

I pull the blanket over my legs, turning to Prim completely. I think about kissing Peeta. My stomach does a strange little flop. But then I remember what it's like for him to even just do subtle things, like take my hand when we're sitting together at meals. "Prim, I get butterflies whenever he touches me, forget kissing." Then, thoughtfully, I add, "I get butterflies when he even just smiles at me. Well, not always. There's a certain kind of smile."

"Do you love him?"

That one, I don't know about. "I'm not sure."

"But you think you might."

"I don't know..." I say, truly unsure.

"Do you feel guilty about Gale?"

I decide I'm just going to play along with the interrogation. To her question, I answer, "No. I don't feel guilty that I chose Peeta over him, because in the end, Peeta was the one who really... needed _this_. I am guilty about Lira, though."

Prim smiles, at last. "I'm happy you're happy, Katniss."

"Thanks, little duck," I say, smiling back.

"I'm happy you're with Peeta," she continues, and then sobers. "But I miss Rue. She would have liked to see you and Peeta together."

I sigh. "I know she would've."

There's a very long silence next.

"What happens if you and Peeta don't work out, Katniss?"

I look at Prim for a long moment. She's looking at me curiously, but there's also that same wariness on her face, like she's afraid of offending me or sending me running. Either way, this time, I don't answer her, because I'm scared of what I might say.

Lying in bed with Peeta later, though, in between the bunk with his brothers and the queen-sized bed with his parents, I have to ask. "Peeta... what happens if we can't do this? What if we can't... keep it up?"

Peeta brushes my hair away from my face. "Can't keep this up? What do you mean? If we..." He hesitates. "Break up?"

"I... I don't _want _to, but I don't..."

"I know what you mean," he says. "But I intend on keeping this up. Do you?"

"Well, I – yes," I reply.

Peeta smiles. "Exactly."

"So... what?" I ask. "You intend on keeping this up – you intend... on living the rest of your life... with me."

"I'm sorry for being so forward, but it's not a lie," he admits.

Well, he's Peeta. He wouldn't lie to me, but there are other factors, too. And suddenly I want to know how we're going to keep on keeping on with this relationship... thing. "What if you change your mind?" I ask, surprised by how frightened I sound when I say it.

Peeta smiles, probably recognizing the fear in my voice, and kisses me. "Then, we'll deal with it then, okay? For now..." He pulls the blanket up to his chin, yawning. "Sleep."

I smile. "Okay. Good night."

"Good night, Kat."

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**_Review, please._**


	35. Tame the Flames

It's amazing how school quenches my inspiration, hm? :) On the shorter side. I might update next weekend – Easter weekend!

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

(Peeta POV)

Gale finds me after dinner. He checks in with the head chef, and I realize that he, too, is doing cleanup. I'm surprised, because it's the first time he's actually stuck with the schedule since... well. Since. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he washes dishes at the sink across from mine. He hasn't shaved in a long time. A fine layer of stubble covers his chin. His hair is wild and messy. He looks broken. I stare at my reflection in the mirror for comparison and feel terrible, because I am reminded of how happy I am, and how Rue and Lira are in the Capitol. Meanwhile, Gale suffers, right in front of me.

"Peeta," he says, so quietly I'm hardly sure he said it. I look over to him, and he says again, "Peeta."

"Yes?" I ask. These are the first words he's spoken to me in about two weeks.

"I hate the Capitol," he whispers, turning off the tap. He leans his hands on the counter, bowing his head down. I wonder if he's crying.

I turn off my faucet and move beside him. "I know."

"You have no idea how much I hate him." I see his jaw tighten, his knuckles clench. I realize he's talking about the president. "Peeta."

"Yes?" I say again.

He looks up at me, a fierce sort of sadness on his face. "I want to shoot him. I want to hold the gun between his eyes, and I want him to regret _everything _he's done."

There's something eerily familiar about everything he's saying. I let him blow off steam.

"I want him to look at me and beg for mercy," he seethes, holding his fists to his face and clenching his hair. "And I want him to know how much it hurts."

He continues on for a long time, but I never stop paying attention. Finally, he kicks the door beneath the sink and holds his palm up to his eyes. Now, I know he's crying. That's when I realize I know why it seemed familiar. Katniss rages like this, too. When she hates something, she hates it with everything in her. Gale is the same. Like her, Gale burns with passion and hatred and fury. Flames rage inside him, but they don't need to be stoked or put out. They need to be tamed. And the thing that gets me is that Lira is the only one who can do that for Gale.

"I'm sorry," I say helplessly.

He swallows, hand sliding down his face. "Katniss promised me, you know. She promised me she'd do everything she could to get Lira back."

Unhesitatingly I say, "I promise the same."

"Did you care about Lira, ever, Peeta?"

"Like I'd care for a sister," I answer.

"Tell me how you care for her. How much you do," he says, staring at me intently.

I frown. "She understands me most, Gale. Lira is one of the people I trust completely. She and I are very alike. I can't imagine her being gone entirely." Gale flinches at that last bit.

"Okay," says Gale. It comes out in a whisper, as if suddenly he didn't care. "What about Katniss? Do you love her?"

"I always have. You know that."

"You'll take care of her?" he asks.

I smile. "Like I told you all those months ago when I ran away with Katniss and Rue, it's likely she'll be taking care of me more than I'll be taking care of her."

Gale shakes his head. "That's not true. If you are what like Lira is to me, Katniss needs you." He motions sadly to himself. "Without you, Katniss probably would be as angry as I am."

"We're all still here for you," I remind him.

He looks up at me, meeting my eyes. I realize how glad I am to have him as a friend, to be able to call him "brother", even if it isn't true. It's nice that he calls me the same thing. It's nice to have Gale Hawthorne part of the family. I hadn't realized before getting to know him that my jealousy about his relationship with Katniss was really the only thing in the way. Otherwise, we do get along. Flawlessly. Gale says quietly,"I know."

The problem is that, "brothers" though we may be, we aren't enough.

…

I am called out of some class after lunch to go to Command. I see Katniss on the way, and she looks strangely worried, so I ask, "Do you know what this is about?"

"No," she replies, "but I have a bad feeling. We haven't been called to Command... in a while. And if we have it hasn't brought anything good."

"Let's not be pessimistic," I say, but even I'm feeling like something is wrong.

When we enter Command, everybody is there from our Star Squad. Everyone who can be there, anyway. Gale sits closest to the door, slouching. Katniss moves over to sit beside him, across from the Odairs and Johanna. I sit next to Katniss.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," says Boggs tonelessly. I look at Lira's uncle. He hasn't stopped looking disturbed in the past couple of weeks. It's weird how now I'm noticing how alike he and Lira are. Coin presses a button on a remote, saying nothing, and the screen in front of us flickers before showing an image.

It takes much too long for me to realize who's on the screen. Gale stands up, taking slow steps toward the screen. I watch his heart break as his fingers reach up to Lira's face. I wonder how much he wishes it were truly her face. His hand drops to his side as Lira looks down at her lap.

Lira and Rue both look like pictures of health. They are stunning. They are radiant. But somehow, this makes me hate what the Capitol has done to them even more. Lira's hair is styled beautifully, so it falls in waves on her shoulders; her face is clean and looks so natural, but she still does look beautiful. Her dress is white, with black roses, and a sash around her waist. On the other hand, Rue looks more grown-up but still quite youthful and cute. They've straightened her hair so it is longer, she wears a pink and white dress, which goes down to her knees. Like a little girl at a tea party. I don't like what they've done to my little flower.

Beside them is Caesar Flickerman, who is an explosion of color.

"So, girls, how are you feeling?" asks Caesar.

Neither of them respond for a long time, until Rue says, "I'm alive, Caesar."

"And you, Lira?"

I wonder if I'm imagining the underlying threatening tone in that question.

Lira sits up straight, pushing her chin out. "I'm okay, despite the electroshocks and hearing Rue's screams as I get overcome with seizures, knowing I can do nothing to make her stop. So yeah. Aside from being held prisoner and being tortured every day, I am _just dandy_." On screen, Rue flinches.

Gale bangs his fists on the wall next to the screen. I can hear him sobbing quietly.

"Electroshocks," Annie whispers. A tear rolls down her cheek. Finnick closes his eyes. Johanna has gone absolutely pale.

"Now, Lira..." says Caesar in a consoling voice.

Lira smiles sweetly. "Now, Caesar, I'm not going to lie to the country; I know for a fact that the audience hates false advertising. Dressing up a lie doesn't make it the truth, you know."

"I know," Caesar replies. "Rue, do you have anything to say to the rebels back home?"

Rue looks at Lira. We can't see their hands due to the camera's shot, but I'm sure that Lira just took her hand. In a very sure voice, Rue says, "Yes." She turns to the camera. "Keep fighting. Never stop fighting."

Lira smiles at the camera. "And if we die, the best thing you can do is keep our memory living by winning the war."

Gale sinks to the ground.

Katniss stands up and crouches next to him. "Gale, come on. Let's go."

I look at Coin. "Turn it off, please. He can't take it. Pretty sure I can't."

Coin doesn't respond. Boggs, though, stares at Coin for a long moment before snatching it out of her hands and turning it off. "I am absolutely sure I can't," he says quietly. "I can't watch this. We need to do something, President."

"Send soldiers out to get them. Not these ones." Coin's voice is flat. She looks at no one as she says it.

"No," I say. "We have to go."

"And risk losing another one?" asks Coin. "No. There have been too many _stops _in the rebellion. We're getting Soldier Graveolens and Soldier Hunt back because they're the only ones holding us back right now, okay?"

"Holding us back?" Gale repeats, standing up. "Do something for the rebellion! We are not important! You can do _whatever the hell _you want, Coin. Don't blame us and whatever we are feeling, for you being a _coward_."

Coin stares. "Remember your place, Soldier Hawthorne."

"Just because I know where I stand in line doesn't mean I like it," he says coldly. "Don't _mock _us, Coin. You don't know how it feels to find out someone you care about is being tortured with electroshocks everyday. Stop pretending you do. Stop treating us like we're just your precious little mascots that need to be pleased. It's _insulting_. Stop trying to please us _just because_ you need to satisfy our needs to make the country do and feel what _you _want. We aren't _just _your 'Star Squad', which, by the way, is the cheesiest and stupidest and overall _worst _name anybody has ever come up with."

Coin stands up.

"Unless you plan on doing something productive, or saying something that isn't complete -" he says something that rhymed with "pullpit", here, "- I will leave, now. Please and thank you."

And with that, Gale walks out of the room. Or maybe 'walked' is too simple of a term.

As soon as the door closes behind him (with a loud bang), I exchange glances with the others. We all turn toward Coin, who is standing frozen in shock. She looks abnormally red, and she wears a look of utmost annoyance. Katniss smiles at me, and I say cheerfully, "So. _Now_, do you have a real plan, Coin?"

Coin glares at me.

I'll take that as a no.

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_**Review please!**_


	36. Score, Capitol

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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(Peeta POV)

It takes four weeks.

I wake up in the middle of the night to Tom shaking me frantically. He looks at me, eyebrows creased and lips pressed together. I see his Adam's apple bob as he says, "You have to get up."

"Why?" I ask. Tom looks too serious to be joking. And that never, ever happens. I feel legitimately afraid because of that.

Tom exhales. It is an unsteady breath. Unusual. "You just have to get up, Peeta. And go wake up Katniss."

"Why?" I repeat, sitting up. "What's wrong? She's all right?"

"Yes, obviously, that's why I'm telling you to wake her up," he says harshly, in a very un-Tom-like voice. Startled into obedience, I stand up and pull on a shirt and sweater. Tom stands at the door when he adds, "Meet me down at the hospital when you're done."

"... all right," I answer reluctantly before rushing down the hall into the Everdeen compartment, tiptoeing so as to not wake up Prim—but as I look over to Katniss' little sister, I notice that Mrs. Everdeen is not in bed. I frown before shaking Katniss awake.

"Peeta?" she mumbles, opening her eyes. She looks over to her bedside table—it's only now that I notice it's two o'clock in the morning. "Peeta..."

"Something's wrong," I tell her. "We have to go to the hospital now."

"Why?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. Tom just told me to go down to the hospital. Your mom's probably there, too." There is a bathrobe on the back of a chair which I hand over to her. She stands up, pulls it on, still watching me with sleepy but wary eyes.

"What could be wrong?" she asks me, frowning.

I sigh. "Let's go find out."

The hallways are silent until we reach the hospital wing, where everybody is buzzing. The nurses and doctors run around, not looking at us at all. They're all yelling at each other, glancing at clipboards, talking on phones.

"What's going on?" Katniss asks to no one in particular, but a nurse standing beside us answers.

"There was a mission over night," he explains. "Some of the soldiers went to the Capitol late last night."

My eyes widen. "_What_?"

The nurse nods, pressing his lips together. "Soldier Hunt and Soldier Graveolens."

"They're _here_?" Katniss exclaims. Just as she says that, though, Gale rushes in behind us.

"Who's here?" Gale asks, looking sleepy. He clearly doesn't know what's going on. I wonder who woke him.

I exchange a cautious look toward Katniss. Something about this doesn't seem right. Why are Lira and Rue in the hospital? Why did nobody tells us that they were going to get her? Why is everybody so worried about two people returning? What happened to them?

Gale looks between the two of us. "Tell me. Now."

The nurse, still there, says, "Soldier Hawthorne."

"Yeah?" Gale turns to the nurse.

"Go down the hallway. At the end of the hallway, turn left, and tell the guard you want to see Soldier Hunt," says the nurse slowly.

"What?" Gale whispers.

I swallow tightly. "Go see her, Gale."

He bolts, running down the hallway.

Katniss grabs my hand, but speaks to the nurse. "Rue. Where is she?"

The nurse points. "Just down that hallway, at the very end."

I am pulled away by Katniss as she begins to sprint. It's not hard to keep up. Rue! I'm going to see her again! She's alive! She's here!

But I still can't shake off the feeling that there's something wrong.

The end of the hallway is a kid's room, which has a large glass window. From the very edge of it, I can see Rue sitting in an orange egg chair with a children's book, spinning around with a dazed look on her face. "Rue..." I whisper, letting go of Katniss' hand and opening the door to see her. Rue looks up, surprised.

I rush toward Rue, Katniss on my heels. Rue's started crying, reaching out for us, and I'm thinking that she's crying in happiness. She stands up, and I take her up in my arms. "Rue, Rue," I whisper, shaking in disbelief. She's alive, she's okay, we have her. She's alive, she's alive, she's alive.

"Peeta," she sobs, "I told them not to bring her! They didn't listen! They knocked her out and they brought her, and they won't listen to me!"

"Wait, what?" Katniss asks, and I let Rue down.

Rue continues weeping. "They did something to her. They took her home, and I told them not to. They didn't _listen_! They don't stand a _chance_! Lira's not the same anymore! They shouldn't have brought her back!"

"What happened to Lira?" Katniss demands. She looks back at me. Immediately, we rush off toward the room that Gale had been heading off to. He's standing at the door, talking to a guard.

"Tell me why she's contained," says Gale, voice shaking with anger. "I want to see her."

"Soldier Hawthorne," says the guard impatiently, "I can't..."

Rue comes up behind us. "Gale, you don't want to see her."

"Yes, I _do_! I've been having nightmares of what they've done to her for the past month! I can't _take it _anymore!" Gale bellows. "Let me see her!"

Rue stares at him, still and sad. Everybody is silent for a moment, watching as she disappears into whatever she's thinking. Then, in a hushed voice, she says shakily, "Let him in."

The guard hesitates. He sighs and opens the door. We follow Gale into the room that Lira's being kept in. I don't know why I'm so surprised and horrified to find her cuffed to the wall. She stands tall despite that, chin held high.

"Lira..." Gale gasps. "Liar, Liar."

Lira watches him, not saying anything. The guard stands beside us, watching calmly. He holds his hands behind him, as if knowing what he can expect.

"I missed you," Gale says softly, reaching for her, to caress her.

Katniss suddenly whispers, "Don't."

"Why not?" asks Gale, turning to her.

"Look at her eyes, Gale. Look at them," Katniss murmurs, staring at Lira in some horror. "Look at her face. This isn't our Lira."

Gale looks at Lira for a long moment. His hand drops. "Who are you?"

She juts her chin out proudly again, and I think she's not going to say something. I'm horrified, because I see what Katniss has seen. There is no warmth in her face. She is cold and unsmiling. She is filled with hatred. But then she answers Gale, a cool smile on her face. It doesn't reach the eyes. It is not the proud smile of tough Lira Hunt, my confidant, the girl who knew me better than anybody else.

"Lira Hunt. I am sixteen years old. I am a soldier for the Capitol."

I turn around to Rue in shock. Rue bites her lip, a tear running down her cheek. She looks down at the ground, shaking.

"What have they done to you?" Gale whispers. "Lira, you aren't a soldier for the Capitol. You're a soldier for the rebels. The Capitol _killed _your parents, don't you remember?"

"My parents are from the Capitol," she says, her own lie that she believes. "They are well and alive and I will make them proud."

Gale goes right up to her and says through his teeth, "You are Lira Hunt, sixteen years old, soldier for the rebels. My liar... don't... we never _meant _for that nickname to be real... please, please, don't do this to me!"

"I'm not doing anything to you." She watches him coolly. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm cuffed to the wall and incapable of doing any harm to you."

"I've had nightmares about you getting tortured for a month!" he screams at her. "Do you think that's not harm? I've _died _again and again for the past four weeks! Just watching you die over and over again in my dreams."

"That," says Lira smoothly, "isn't my problem."

He falls to his knees, clenching his hair. He shakes, beginning to sob. Katniss steps toward him, bends down, puts her arms around him.

"Gale, please..." whispers Katniss. "Don't give up."

I look at Lira, now, and for the first time, she looks back at me. I watch her, trying to talk to her with my eyes... I used to be able to do that, but this is a stranger.

But maybe not entirely.

"I want to talk to her," I say. "Alone."

Gale looks up at me, an angry look on his face. "Why?" I know, though, that his anger isn't for me. It's for the Capitol. He's jealous, now, and raging. What could Peeta Mellark possibly do to bring back his liar? Well, I promised I'd try to bring her back. So I'm just holding to that promise.

I turn to him. "You might have loved her most, Gale, but I knew her best. There's a difference and you know I can make that difference."

His expression softens. "Fine. Bring her home, brother."

I'm honestly scared I won't be able to.

Quietly, I answer, "I'll try." I stand motionless as Katniss helps Gale out, followed by the guard, and then Rue.

Lira is still looking at me. "You think you'll be able to make a difference, Peeta Mellark?"

"You know, your perception tends to be a pain."

She blinks once, as if remembering something. "What?"

"I just get people, Lira. It's what you and I have in common." Lira doesn't answer, so I continue. "If you'd lived in District Twelve, we probably would have been best friends, Lira. I've thought about it... maybe we were best friends, even here in Thirteen. I can't imagine anybody else knowing me as well as you do, and if anybody should be my best friend, it's you. But I couldn't possibly love you the way Gale does, just because of that reason."

She glances coolly at me. I wonder if she believes me. I wonder if she thinks she loves Gale.

"Actually," I say thoughtfully. I sit down. "I don't know if Gale loves you. I know he cares about you. More than a lot of people do... but if anything he deserves to see his Lira Hunt at least one more time, and you are not her. Hey, I thought I should tell you something. I forgot that you hadn't realized. Did you know I finally made a move with Katniss? She's my girlfriend now. You would've been happy about that. You would have thrown a party because of it."

I see her look at me.

I smile. "Aha."

"What?" she asks sharply.

Laughing a little, I shake my head. "You may be a soldier for the Capitol, but I still see a little bit of Lira Hunt in there. The Lira that we know and love."

"How could you possibly think that?" she demands.

I half-smile. "I just know. Because you and me, Lira Hunt... we're people people."

"People people?" repeats Lira.

"People person. Except plural. So people people," I explain. Again, she is silent. So, I stand up. "I'll talk to you soon, Liar."

I walk outside, where Katniss, Gale, and Rue are waiting.

"Well?" asks Gale hopefully.

I look at him. "She's not gone. Not completely. There's hope."

"What makes you say so?" asks Katniss. She is doubtful.

I begin to walk as I answer, "I just know, Kat."

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_**Review, please!**_


	37. Picnic in the Past

**I don't own the Hunger Games, nor the song featured in this fic (_Top of the World_, by the Carpenters).**

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(Katniss POV)

"Are you okay?"

I look up at Peeta, who's watching me. We're aboveground today. I think Coin took pity on us, after what happened to Lira. So, Peeta and I stole some sandwiches, a basket, and a picnic blanket, and headed up. It's a nice day out, and it feels rather unfair. As if the Capitol still commands everything, like the weather, and they're using the sun to laugh at us. Maybe they do still command everything. I look up at Peeta, with his backdrop of the forest, and I smile a little.

"I'm okay as I can get," I answer. I lean back, pulling grass out of the ground. "But the outdoors reminds me of Gale, and Gale reminds me of Lira..."

Peeta nods.

We slept in our old room last night, with Rue. Well, that's not true, actually. We tried to sleep in our old room last night. Rue did not stop screaming the entire night and didn't stop until about five o'clock in the morning, and by then, Peeta and I were wide awake.

"She'll never be okay," I whisper.

Peeta crawls over to me and holds me. I sigh, leaning against him, happy to have him there. Because no matter how upset I am or he is or both of us are, he's still going to be there for me. "Of course she'll be okay," he says.

"Which one?" I ask.

"Both of them. Rue... Rue, one day, Katniss, will be a famous musician. She'll have composed the sweetest tunes and lullabies... people will worship the ground she walks on. And... and she'll get married, of course, to a man who loves her, and they'll have beautiful singing babies."

I laugh. "Don't get my hopes up."

"But it's true," says Peeta solemnly.

I lean my head on his shoulder, looking up at him with a small smile. "What about Lira?"

"Oh. She'll get married to Gale and they'll have babies, too. They won't be singing. They'll be mischievous children, always with grass stains on their clothes, scrapes on their knees."

I'm smiling because it's true. "And what about..." I pause. "No. I don't want to talk about our future. Not right now."

"Why not?" he asks. "We can name our oldest son—we'd have about six or seven sons—Finnick, or Tom, or... I know, Haymitch. Can you imagine it? Haymitch Mellark? Sounds nice, doesn't it?"

I laugh. "No. Stop it." I take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the outdoors. "Tell me a story about your past."

"What do you want to hear?" Peeta says. "I haven't really had a very interesting past."

"Tell me..." I frown thoughtfully, tracing a pattern on the back of his hand, which sits on my knee. "Tell me about your first kiss."

"My first kiss!" he repeats. "Why?"

I grin. "Just because."

Peeta smirks back at me. "Will you get _jealous_?"

I roll my eyes. "No. Just tell me the story."

"Fine, fine..."

…

My first kiss was with a girl named Caytee. I don't think you knew her, since she was extremely smart and was put a year ahead of us—funny how that works, since nobody can end up anywhere but in the mining business in Twelve, right? Anyway, I thought she was _so beautiful_. We were thirteen, by the way. She lived in the same neighborhood as I did, and all her sisters had the prettiest hair and the fairest faces... Tom and Eddy loved teasing me about her.

So one day, she came into the shop. By herself. Caytee never did. She was always at home with the books—I guess I always had a thing for quiet girls; apparently I still do—and when she comes out to the bakery she's always with her sisters or her parents. I wasn't working that day; I was in the back doing homework. Tom was baking, Eddy was working the counter. Then, just to irritate me, they called me in to do the work instead. They told me they'd just be a second, and they had to pick up supplies from the train that just came in—which was a complete lie, but they were saying those things to me in front of Caytee.

I couldn't just _insist _that they work, because it would seem like I was avoiding Caytee and it would seem very rude, right? So I just played along!

"Is there something wrong?" she asked me when I stepped up to the counter. I probably looked like a bee stung my butt at that point.

"Oh, no," I said.

She had this _humongous _order. More than District Twelve people usually ever buy. She was getting all different kinds of breads for a week's-worth of meals, and a small cupcake for her oldest sister's birthday.

So the two of us are just standing there together, going through the orders.

"Three croissants."

"A loaf of bread."

"Blah blah blah."

And I'm just nodding and "mhm"-ing, and I just have no idea what to say to this girl, because this is this pretty girl who lives down the block, I mean she's not Katniss Everdeen, but—

…

"Oh, stop being annoying," I tell him.

Peeta grins. "Come now, Kat, you don't believe I thought that?"

"Why would you?"

Peeta rolls his eyes.

…

Like I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I was busy being Mr. Ladies Man at twelve years old with Caytee Orter, and then finally she asks, "You're being very quiet today, aren't you, Peeta?"

Then I drop the cupcake I was holding for her, and then I swear quickly. "Oh, I'm sorry—I didn't—such a klutz."

I look up, and she's smiling at me. "It's okay."

"You can have another one if you like, or I can bake another for you, exactly the same, I mean—"

"Peeta," she says, all amused, "it's fine."

"Sorry," I say, embarrassed. Then I notice the book under her arm and try to make conversation, you know? "Good book?"

And she answers, "It's excellent."

So then she started talking about this book, and she tells me all about it, and she's just not that quiet girl I knew from down the block, she's just so enthusiastic about everything, and then even though she's holding her order already, she's not leaving... so when the conversation dies, I say, "Well... that'll be all, then?"

"Yeah, I guess," she says, all awkward-like.

"It was nice talking to you," I try to say.

"Yeah. Same with you."

Then she's not leaving, and I ask, "Not to be rude, but aren't you... going to... uh, leave?"

"Yeah," she says.

But she doesn't. And then she puts her book and her order on the counter and then says really quickly to me, "I really like you, Peeta", and then she kisses me quickly and then she grabs her things and leaves, and I'm just standing there all shocked and not sure what to think.

…

I smile. "Was she your first girlfriend?"

"No," Peeta admits. "She kind of just was really embarrassed to talk to me afterward and even though I liked her back, she didn't act like she liked _me _anymore. I guess that kiss kind of ruined our relationship."

"Quiet girls do things like that," I say.

Peeta grins. "You didn't. Well, you did, but, you didn't."

I smile, kissing him. "You learned from your mistakes, then."

"Good thing, too," he says, kissing my cheek. "Your turn to tell me a story?"

"Why?" I ask. "You know what the majority of my life has been like. It's all just hunting."

He shakes his head. "That's not true... there's more to your life than hunting."

I laugh. "Sure. Now, there is..."

"No, no, no," says Peeta. "_Before _hunting. Tell me a story about your dad."

"My dad?" I repeat, surprised.

"If you're okay with it."

I watch him carefully.

…

Well, it was a nice day out. Like today. Sun was shining, mockingjays were singing... and my dad was there, which had a lot to do with it, I guess. He'd taught me how to hunt just a few weeks earlier, and we were back in the woods again. My bow was small, but he made it himself, and I knew how to use it fine. Then, when we weren't too far into the woods, we stopped for a bit and he said to me, "Listen to this, Katniss."

And then he looked up at the canopy and began to sing. The mockingjays were so—

…

"Wait!" Peeta said suddenly. "Sing the song!"

I look up at him exasperatedly. "But that's not even what the story's about!"

"Just sing it, please?" he asks.

I roll my eyes.

_Such a feeling's coming over me,  
__There is wonder in most everything I see  
__Not a cloud in the sky, got the sun in my eyes,  
__And I won't be surprised if it's a dream_

_Everything I want the world to be...  
__Is now coming true, especially for me!  
__And the reason is clear, it's because you are here  
__You're the nearest thing to heaven that I've seen..._

…

It's a happy song, isn't it? A bit weird, in District Twelve, but at the time, maybe he was at the top of the world. I was, too. It wasn't an easy life, but I was happy. In the woods, with my father, singing... it's where I felt like I belonged, you know?

_I'm on the top of the world, looking  
__down on creation and the only explanation I can find  
__Is the love that I've found, ever since you've been around,  
__Your love's put me at the top of the world_

_Something in the wind has learned my name  
and it's telling me that things are not the same  
In the leaves on the trees, in the touch of the breeze,  
__There's a pleasin' sense of happiness for me_

So, anyway, we were hunting, and I hadn't shot anything yet, but Father had spied a rabbit for me. The two of us crouched behind a bush, watching as a rabbit stayed still a few feet in front and to the right. He whispered tips to me as I pulled back the string. I closed my eye, pulled my right hand to my ear, and aimed. "Shoot," my dad said in a quiet voice. The rabbit looked around at the sound of the arrow whizzing toward it, but it was too late. I jumped up, so excited, to see it dead.

Already a hunter back then. Cold and calculating—and don't even try to say anything, Peeta. It's all right. But I don't know. It made me happy. My father made it seem like I'd brought down a bear instead of just a rabbit. It was the first time I'd shot something. We brought it home to Mother and Prim and they just weren't as excited, but they still celebrated. I'm pretty sure it might be in the top ten of the best days of my life.

_There is only one wish on my mind  
__When this day is through, I hope that I will find  
__That tomorrow will be, just the same for you and me  
__All I need will be mine if you are here_

_I'm on the top of the world, looking  
__down on creation and the only explanation I can find...  
__Is the love that I've found, ever since you've been around,  
__Your love's put at me the top of the world._

_I'm on the top of the world, looking  
__down on creation and the only explanation I can find...  
__Is the love that I've found, ever since you've been around,  
__Your love's put me at the top of the world._

…

I smile up at Peeta.

Peeta asks, "What's the best one?"

"That day I came home with the bread you gave me," I answer. Then he watches me carefully. "And it's just special now because it's the first time I noticed you, but for more than that... Prim was so happy. And... we were on the way back from the dead."

He smiles. "Just going to say, I'm very glad you're alive."

"That makes two of us," I say.

"I have an idea, though," Peeta adds. I look up at him. "Can we keep it that way?"

I laugh. "I'll try."

* * *

_**Review, please!**_


	38. Rue's Lullaby

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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(Katniss POV)

Rue will never get better. Not in the way that I can, Peeta can, Gale can, or most everybody else can. She has seen too much and felt too much horror to go back to what she was before all of this happened. Rue Graveolens is no longer the girl she was all those months ago when she asked me to help her get to District Thirteen. She is no longer the wispy girl in a gossamer gown who told Caesar Flickerman to not count her out of the Hunger Games, nor the eldest among five siblings. And she will never be able to go back to that.

She spends most of her days in our room, where the nurses have provided her with the only entertainment that seems to satisfy her nowadays. Simple books, coloring things—trivial little things that babies ought to use. She does little else. Since she came back, Rue's just descended into her own little world. Nobody can talk to her properly. If you mention Lira's name, she loses her mind.

I can't even begin to imagine what Rue saw in those days.

"Hey, Rue," I say as I walk in the door. Those are the first words I've spoken to her in a long time.

She doesn't look up at me. She's coloring in the lines with a green marker. Very carefully.

"I've never been a great talker, everybody knows that. You especially, I'd think. I thought maybe talking to you would be easier now because we haven't exactly had much conversation and I know that I can say whatever to you without being interrupted, but it turns out I was wrong. This isn't much easier," I say, exhaling. I pause, giving her room to respond, as if she would _actually _respond. "You know maybe I didn't realize it at the time, but I began feeling so responsible for you all those months ago, when we first met. You just reminded me so much of Prim.

"You were so vulnerable, you know? You _looked _so vulnerable. And then you'd just survived this horrible experience and you were just like my little sister, and I think about how Prim would have been dead on the first day and it scares me so much to think that you went through that. But then it became worse, and here you are now. I feel responsible for what happened. I know, in some ways, that it's not my fault, and everybody, including you, would say it wasn't my fault but I feel like I should have stopped you.

"I could have stopped you, and the only question I have now is why didn't I? What would it have been like if I had? It's such a bad 'what if'. Because I know you'd hate me if I'd stopped you. Russul might not have lived if I'd stopped you."

I sit down in front of her, covering my eyes with my hand, rubbing my forehead. I start to cry. "But you would be okay if I'd stopped you."

It's suddenly very quiet, but I still see Rue's shadow as she moves closer to me. She sits beside me, hugs me tightly. It's a very strange, awkward hug, but I'm glad for it. I hug her back.

"Katniss, this isn't your fault," she says, very precisely and very clearly. "My nightmares aren't your fault. They are the Capitol's fault. Everything that has happened to Lira is not your fault, or Peeta's, or Gales. It is the Capitol's fault."

I stare at her, partly surprised that she's speaking, and mostly I'm just out of words to say.

She leans back, pulls her knees up to her chest, and raps her knuckles against each other—a nervous action, a bit like biting her nails or rocking back and forth.

I press my lips together, swallowing tightly. "I find that telling yourself what you know works best to figure out what you don't know."

"Sorry?" she asks.

"Just make lists. Right now, what's making you nervous?" I ask, feeling wrong. This isn't my thing. This is Peeta's thing, making people feel better.

"Lira Lira. Liar Liar Liar Liar," says Rue.

"Think about the good times with Lira, then. Focus on that. Make lists of it in your head. And not just your experiences," I suggest, but her eyes are already closed, and her lips are already mouthing the words. I stand up again and move around to all her things.

I wonder how they help. There's a spinning top, several multicolored building blocks, a dollhouse. Miniature plastic farm animals. None of these toys should amuse a girl of Rue's age anymore. I open the book closest to me, which is a book teaching kids about art. Then I put it down and pick up a small white box. It's small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. I open the lid, and it begins to play a lullaby. I swallow tightly because it sounds familiar.

_Here is the place where I love you..._

"Rue," I say quietly, more to myself, "what are you doing?"

Rue turns around to me and answers anyway. "They keep me sane."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Rue sighs. "I just... I can lose myself in these things, you know? Toys. When you were little, did you play with dolls, Katniss?"

"Yes," I reply. They were paper dolls, but I still played with them, with Prim especially.

Rue crawls over to me, holds one of the dolls in her hand. She bites her lip. "Do you remember what it feels like to play with them? You'd be so distracted in the doll's life, and how it was easy to spend hours just _pretending_... that's how I deal with all these... things in my head. I have to think of something that's completely not happening in reality."

"Your dolls."

She nods. "Yes. And I _know _it looks weird and it makes me look more crazy than I already am, but it helps."

I smile a bit sadly at her. "Well, then, I'm glad it helps."

Rue smiles back at me and hands me a doll. "Play with me?"

I hold the doll in my hand and frown. "I don't remember how."

She laughs. "You'll remember. Just trust me."

* * *

_**Review, please!**_

Has anybody else felt this? My younger cousins came over, and I pulled out my old Littlest Petshop toys, and I remembered how I used to be able to make stories all the time, just off the top of my head—and now, even though I write stories all the time, I can't hold little dolls in my hand and just make stories the same way. I used to be so good at that.


	39. A Suggestion for Lira

**I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

(Peeta POV)

They've taken Lira off the cuffs but they've kept her in the same room. I am in the surveillance room, looking at her. Rue's taken to playing with toys, but Lira's taken to scribbling. And doing a lot of it. They've allowed her a notebook and a lot of pencils, but nobody knows what she's been drawing or writing or whatever. Gale's been in the surveillance room lots of times. I don't need to ask him why he hasn't actually entered her room because I know why. He can't stand to be in the same place as Capitol-Lira.

I look to the security guard sitting in front of the screens. "Will I be able to go see her?"

The guard looks at Lira. "You want to?"

"Yeah. I want to talk to her."

"Well..." The guard hesitates, still looking up at the screen. "She gets a bit hostile if you interrupt her."

"I'll be fine," I say.

He looks at me doubtfully, but shrugs. "All right." He stands up and leads me to her room, even though I know where it is. And when I walk in, I'm sure he's still standing on the other side of the door, ready to just help me bolt out—because he probably thinks I have no idea what horrors are in this room.

Oh, but I do...

Lira meets my eyes with a cool glare. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to talk."

She smiles, but it's still a bit of an untrustworthy smile—not old Lira's smile. "You're the only one who wants to _talk_. Rue is scared to death of me, and she probably wouldn't even touch me with a ten-foot pole. Katniss is ashamed and angry, and can't believe I let down Gale like that. And as for Gale, well, I've let him down... but why do you keep coming back?"

"Because I believe in you, and you would've done the same for me," I say easily.

"Why, though? You think that I'm going to stop feeling this loyalty I feel for the Capitol? Come now, Peeta, think honestly... do I _look _like I'm going to switch over to your side anytime soon?"

She's looking at me so fiercely.

Slowly, but very surely, I answer, "Yes."

Lira grits her teeth. I can see it. "What makes you think so?"

"Because you know what you've done. You know that Rue is scared to death of you, you know Katniss is ashamed and angry, and you know you've let Gale down, and somewhere deep down in this Lira, you feel horrible about it," I say.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"You keep pretending like you know what I'm feeling, Peeta Mellark." She seethes, absolutely angry now. "Stop that. It's not true. Whatever you're thinking about me is a lie and you're just trying to convince yourself that I can become this idea of a rebel you have in your head. It's _not _going to happen."

I shake my head. "You're just believing the lies you're telling everybody, and that's the problem. Look at you! You _know _everybody's embarrassed to see you, and you're just wondering why they're acting like that. I mean, part of you wants to think it's an act, but the other part of you is so sure that it's true, because you know that Gale is heartbroken when he sees you. You just want to believe that whatever people here are feeling about you isn't real."

She curls up into a ball, rocks back and forth. "Stop it! Stop it!"

I continue relentlessly. "And you know that these relationships have been real, at least at one point, so you're having a hard time figuring out what's reality and what isn't, because you are so, so, so sure that these memories of the Capitol are real, but then you still feel this bond of friendship when you see me. You feel protective when you see Rue. You feel excited when you see Gale. And those feelings can't lie, but you're still so confused. Can't you just try to believe, even for a second, that all your memories are a lie?"

"Yes, because that's _so easy to do_!" Lira screams at me. "Think of _your _past, Peeta Mellark, and try to convince yourself that all of that is a lie!"

She's got me there.

Lira breathes heavily. "There. That's my problem, okay? I'd like to believe that what I feel for you and Katniss and Rue and Gale and everybody else is real, but it's hard to think that maybe everything else I've known to be true is a lie. That's just it."

"So, you're still my best friend?" I ask.

"Sure."

I smile.

Then she adds, "But the Capitol... still feels like my home."

"But what they've done to Rue. Surely you know somebody's to blame for that."

Lira hesitates. "Yes... but my parents in the Capitol, I'm loyal to them... but I don't know who to blame for Rue."

I lean toward her. "You know perfectly well who to blame."

She doesn't answer, but I know she knows. She looks at me with a sad, scared face and that's enough notice for me that she knows who to blame.

I watch her carefully before saying, "I have a suggestion for you."

* * *

_**Review, please!**_


	40. Elimination

I would suggest rereading before reading the final chapter. (If you've been with me since the beginning.) _I _had a lot of difficulty remembering. I reread from chapter 31, but it's up to you.

Thanks for waiting, guys. Here's a very weird ending, imo. It was how I intended for it to end in essence, but it ended up still a bit strange. I apologize. It's 2am and it's finished very poorly but you know what? You've waited long enough. _Thank you _for that.

(For those who lost hope: you guys suck! :( but here's your SUPERWEIRD ending anyway.)

* * *

I sit at lunch with Gale, Katniss, Johanna, and the Odairs when, simultaneously, our communicuffs beep. I look down at my wrist and see two words on mine: "COMMAND. NOW." I look at the wrist beside mine—Katniss' wrist—and notice that the message is exactly the same. She meets my eyes and raises her eyebrows. I shrug. But, actually, I think I might know what Coin wants to tell us.

"I guess that means I don't get to finish," says Johanna glumly. "Shame. This is one of Thirteen's nicer meals."

We take what we can of our lunches and go down to Command, where we find Rue waiting. I study her anxious expression, how her foot taps, how she bites her lip. I glance at Katniss, who's watching Rue and looking as worried as I feel. Rue's been like that a lot lately; it's not just whatever news Coin has for us. Boggs is standing at the head of the table, drumming his fingers on the table.

"So, Boggs," says Johanna, plopping into a chair opposite Rue and putting her legs up on the table. "What's the news?"

"I'm not sure if I can tell you myself," says Boggs, in such an unsure way that I look up in surprise. Boggs doesn't usually sound like that.

"Where's the president?" asks Annie, sitting down next to Johanna. Finnick stands behind her, hands on her shoulders.

Boggs looks to the door. "Coming."

All of us sit together in silence while we wait for Coin; it's a tantalizing few minutes before the doors open rather slowly, and Coin walks through—rather slowly. The sound of her feet tapping the floor echoes throughout the room. Her expression is a bit gaunt, a bit confused. I exchange more looks with Katniss and Gale. This is not the usual, either; although Coin doesn't quite demand attention and isn't quite _noisy_, she's still not as timid as this.

"Is something wrong?" Rue asks quietly.

"No," says Coin, sounding... surprised. "The opposite."

Katniss frowns. "What's happened, then?"

"President Snow is dead."

All of us are unsure how to respond. Then, we burst into questions. How do we know for sure? Since when? How did he die? Was he killed? Who killed him? What happens now?

Coin holds up a hand. "Wait. I don't know who killed him or how he died. I just know that he is dead."

Then, I press my lips together, smiling tightly. This wasn't quite the news I expected, but still... I take a deep breath and announce:

"I think I know who killed him, actually."

...

(Lira POV)

I rode a train into the Capitol. I wore a disguise—with Peeta's help, of course—and I barely made it through security, but I did it.

The cabin I rode in was empty for a lot of the beginning of the trip, except for one other woman: a rebel, who I knew from growing up around the soldiers. She was high up in the rankings—enough to lead the rebels in one of the Districts, I'm just not sure which. As she looked out the window, I studied her. She was younger than I expected a woman with high authority to be. There were lines around her eyes; her mouth was a hard line when she was thinking, which was for a lot of the first part of the train ride.

Her one bag had her name on it. I did a double-take, thinking it said Lira, but actually, it read 'Liza'. When I looked up again, she was looking at me. Smiling a bit abashedly, I explained, "Um, I just thought you had the same name as I do. I'm Lira Hunt."

Liza smiled. "Oh. I'm Liza Paylor."

"Oh!" I said. "That's your name. You looked familiar."

She nodded. "Your parents were great soldiers. Even better people."

My smile faltered a bit but remained. "Thanks."

"Hmm..." Liza looked at me curiously. "I'm surprised you're allowed out of Thirteen. I heard..."

"You heard correctly," I said quickly.

"Sneaking out?" said Liza with a devilish smile. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

"It's not that," I said. "They'll have to know sooner or later. Why are _you _going to the Capitol?"

Liza gave me a careful look. "I'll tell you if you tell me," she replied.

I hesitated. She seemed good enough. She seemed trustworthy enough. Her smile was, at any rate, quite genuine-looking. "Well." I looked up at her. "You go first?"

She laughed. "I'm on top secret rebel business, but since you were—are—a rebel, it's probably safe to tell you about it. I was told to come to the Capitol and gather up the rebels who are still there... we're hopefully setting up a plan about what's going to happen to the Capitol and its residents after we win... I'm hoping a number of rebel leaders from the districts will... show up."

"Supposing we win." I still notice that she's being careful about how she says things. It's clear she doesn't quite trust me. I'm glad. I'm not sure _I _trust me at this moment. My hands begin shaking in my lap again. I grit my teeth and press them into my legs, trying to make them stop.

"Coin likes to think optimistically." Liza smiled.

"What about the president? Coin's going to take over, probably, huh?" I asked bitterly.

Liza nodded slowly. "Supposedly... that's what everybody seems to believe but there's been no consensus."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"

"Certainly," said Liza.

"Who else would be president, though?" I asked doubtfully.

Liza shrugged. "I don't know; one of the other rebel leaders, I guess."

"'Other' rebel leaders?" I repeated. "Why not you?"

"I could—I could never!" Liza was almost laughing. "I couldn't imagine ruling, over Coin. That's ridiculous. I would never be able to."

I gave her a doubtful look, but I didn't say much more. We conversed about lighter topics on the way into the Capitol.

On the way out, I ask whereabouts she will be if I want to see her after I'm done in the Capitol. She tells me.

...

I was greeted with fear and confusion as I strolled through the Capitol, straight to the president's house.

"Miss Hunt!" said the guard at the door, alarmed. "We weren't expecting you."

"The president is," I said coolly. "Let me through." I apprehend him with a cold glare.

It is enough to let me in. I am not the only one who understands that my brain isn't quite doing its job at the moment. Oh, well. They know who to blame. The guard opens the door, and I rush in before he can change his mind. I know the way to the president's office; it is situated farthest from the entrance, naturally.

"President," I greet.

Snow looks at me, raising a brow. He speaks slowly, confusedly, "Lira. We weren't expecting you..."

I give him a smile. "You know, I like hearing that from you; I feel like I'm the first person to ever pull one over President Snow. But, of course, I'm not alone in my plan so I can't take all the credit."

It suddenly dawns on him. "You..."

"Finish your sentences," I say sharply, my heart racing. I draw the gun and point it at him. My head spins. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't know who I am, who's on my side, who I trust, who I belong to. Frankly, I'm a bit unsafe and unhinged at the moment.

"Lira," says the president. The coolness is back. He is poised, relaxed. He knows I couldn't kill him. My hand shakes.

But I have to. He is responsible. All of this is his fault. I think of Rue. Her brother. Each of the tributes she fought. All the tributes I knew. I think of Thirteen, and my friends, and my family. My parents.

Me. Selfish, perhaps...

"No," he says, "I know you will kill me. There is no way it will end any differently."

"I will do what I want, and you have _no _say in it," I snarl. My finger leans onto the trigger. I swallow tightly and aim for his head.

"I want to say something first—"

"You don't deserve any final words," I say, taking a step forward and bringing the space between his temple and the barrel to a mere foot.

I stare at him, right into his eyes. My eyes burn with potential tears. Sure enough, they come, but I choke through it. I bite my lip, glare at him through my tears, and it occurs to me how much I _hate _him. How much I want to shoot him, hold the gun between his eyes, and make him regret_ everything _he's done. I want him to look at me and beg for mercy and _know how much it hurts_.

But instead...

I see a bead of sweat roll down his said temple. He looks at me. Then he smiles. And then he's laughing. He shakes his head. "Fine. Do it. Kill me!"

It looks like I'm not the only nutjob around here.

I choke back a sob and fire.

...

"Lira!"

I spin around. I'm sweating like crazy, and all I really want is to go home, but I'm not done here. I'm walking around the residential district of the Capitol, where Liza told me she would be if she needed me. She is the one who calls for me, as she runs along the sidewalk.

"Liza." I say it like an exhale.

"You look like you just..." Liza looks at me with a curious smile. Then she shakes her head. "Leaving already?"

I catch my reflection in the glass of the building beside us. I do look a bit crazy. My eyes are huge, my hair's a mess. "Uh—well, I was looking for you, actually."

"Yeah?" She doesn't look very surprised, considering I asked her where she'd be.

"Yes. I, um, I wanted to know if you were still... going to that meeting."

She hesitates. "Yes... I grabbed a bite to eat first from one of the rebels."

"I need you to get them to decide who's going to be the president after Snow," I say urgently. An image flashes of me barking at the guards, telling them the president wants to be left alone. Yes, the president, slumped in a puddle of his blood. I'm sure he wants to be left alone. I shake it off.

"Why? We had pretty much agreed that Coin—"

"No!" I interrupt. She is taken aback. I soften my tone. "It can't be Coin. You and I both know it can't be Coin."

She presses her lips together and nods. "I guess not."

"It has to be someone from the districts, who knows the problem the districts have been facing and knows how to fix it," I say, taking deep breaths. I'm a _murderer_. I'm a _crazy murderer_. Gale's not going to want anything to do with me anymore... Who am I kidding? I can't go back...

But I have to. I have to apologize...

"Lira? Are you okay?"

"Sorry," I say, shaking my head. "I'm just out of it. Still... a bit shaken."

"Putting it lightly!" she says. "I was saying, I'll talk to them about it. I'll make sure it happens. How can I tell you how it goes, after the meeting?"

"I'll be in Thirteen. You can call me there."

"Awesome."

I force a smile. "Good luck, Liza. Thanks for your help."

"Good luck to you, too."

...

(Peeta POV)

"Lira killed him?" says Gale, astonished.

"I... I think so," I say. "I didn't tell her to kill him, but I told her... she ought to punish him for what he's done to her brain. I didn't think she would assassinate him."

"Lira is not emotionally stable, Soldier Mellark," says Coin sharply. "You had no right to do that, nor to convince her to slip past security. She's not fit to be out in the world."

"You have no right to treat her like she's nothing less than human because of something that wasn't her fault—not to mention, she risked her life under _your _direction. She was and _is _brilliant. Underneath that layer of madness is the Lira we all know and love," I say firmly.

Gale looks at me, a small hint of a smile on his face. "You know this for sure?"

"I do. I've seen it. And she's very confused," I say, looking at Boggs, too. He looks proud. "Although who wouldn't be? I knew she wouldn't be well enough, cooped up here, treated like a specimen and a prisoner. She needed to figure out how to make herself _better_, to take that first step into remembering who she is."

"I think Peeta did the right thing," says Katniss firmly, taking my hand.

I smile down at her.

"And Lira needs it," Katniss adds. "I don't judge her for killing Snow. I would have wanted to. I _still _want to."

Finnick nods. "I don't judge her either."

I know Gale doesn't. I know that he, like Katniss, would have done exactly what Lira did if they were given the opportunity, and they would have done it without hesitation.

Coin looks at all of us, smiles, and nods. "You know what? You are all right. And now, I suppose... I'm president of Panem." I frown. This is not what I intended.

As if on cue, the doors to Command slide open.

"I wouldn't count on that."

"Lira!" gasps Annie. We all spin around to look at her.

She looks very disheveled, but her eyes shine with a bit of madness... but even the old Lira had a bit of mischief in her eyes that bordered on crazy. She's not totally all right, but I think she's very much on her way.

Coin's eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"

"I met a rebel leader on the way in and out of the Capitol," she says. "Apparently there's no consensus about you being president after Snow..." Lira can't bring herself to say "dies", apparently. I suddenly regret my suggestion. It must have been terrifying for her... I wonder what she did to kill him.

"What?" says Coin in a low voice.

"I just received the call. Our new president's name is Commander Liza Paylor," she says proudly. "I personally think she'll be very good."

Coin's eyes widen. "Why, I ought to..."

Suddenly, there is a loud thump, and Coin looks momentarily in shock before slumping forward. Gale stands behind her, his fist raised. He looks at Lira, smiles weakly, and rushes to her. Lira, not much to my surprise, hugs him back with some tentativeness. But she relaxes and squeezes him tight.

"I'm proud of you," he whispers. "And I missed you."

"I missed you, too," she chokes. She pulls back, suddenly, and looks at Rue. We all do.

Rue's now standing, staring at Lira with wide eyes. She stands a few feet away from us, looking as small and innocent and scared as ever.

"I'm so sorry," Lira says through her tears.

Rue shakes her head and hugs her. "I'm so sorry, too."

I look at Katniss. We share a smile. I look at the other people in the room—Johanna, Finnick, Annie, Gale, Boggs—and shake my head in disbelief.

"This isn't how I thought it would end," admits Johanna. She looks between us and gives us a very un-Johanna-like smile. "But whatever. I'm glad it ended at all."

Katniss puts her arm around Johanna and then the other arm around me. She looks up at me. "We'll be okay." She says it like she's trying to convince herself of it.

I nod. I draw Gale in with my other arm, putting it around his shoulders. Soon, we're all in a very awkward hug, Coin still lying at our feet. The process will be slow and hard, and sometimes it might even be painful, but she's right.

I take a deep breath. "Yeah. We'll be okay."


End file.
